







(lass VA7 

Book 1 F* ^^7,"P 
Copjiighl N° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



















































































































Pelham and his Friend Tim 



























“ * Give me that boy ! ’ demanded McCook. ‘ Give me him, I say ! ’ ” 

Frontispiece. See p. 74. 






P elham 

And his Friend Tim 


By 

Allen French 

n 

Author of “ The Story of Rolf and the Viking’s Bow,” 
“The Reform of Shaun,” “ Heroes of 
Iceland,” etc. 


Illustrated by Ch. Grunwald 


Boston 

Little, Brown, and Company 
1906 


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SEP 17 1906 

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Copyric/ht, 1906 , 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 
^4/Z rights reserved 

Published September, 1906 


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THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 


To my Sister 




CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. Hare and Hounds 1 

II. “A Nice Brother!” 13 

III. The Run In 29 

IV. The Master Dyer 40 

V. The Family of McCook .... 50 

VI. Mrs. McCook’s Letter 62 

VII. A Sunday Morning Argument . . 69 

VIII. The New Workman 83 

IX. Pelham is too Generous .... 97 

X. New Ideas 103 

XI. Nate 119 

XII. The Union 137 

XIII. The Sluiceway 148 

XIV. Non-Union Labor 165 

XV. Nate’s Green Dye 179 

XVI. The Strike 190 

XVII. The Picket 202 

XVIII. Giving the Slip 212 

XIX. The Work at the Mill .... 221 


viii Contents 

Chapter Page 

XX. In the Cutting-Room 235 

XXL “ Waterman ” 245 

XXII. Confession 261 

XXIII. The Arrest 274 

XXIV. The New Dyer 284 

XXV. The Sluiceway Again 297 

XXVI. “ Tim, He Fit Well r 309 

XXVII. A Meeting of the Union . . . 320 

XXVIII. The Flight 330 

XXIX. News 339 

XXX. The Sugar-House 347 

XXXI. Captivity 354 

XXXII. The Biters Bit 367 

XXXIII. Understandings 379 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“‘Give me that boy!’ demanded McCook. 

* Give me him, I say ! ’ ” Frontispiece 


“ Into the woods they ran, choosing the bris- 
tliest thickets ” Page 6 


“ Tim reeled back against the wall, pressing his 
hand to his lip ” 

“ ( I have tried to be a fair employer . . . 

“ ‘ Golly ! ’ said Tim, and caught his breath ” . 


57 ' 



/ 


219 






Pelham 

an d H is F riend Tim 

CHAPTER i 

HARE AND HOUNDS 

U PON a hillside lay two panting boys, 
keen-eyed, alert. The one was dressed 
well, and the other poorly; the first 
was fair-haired, and the second dark. But 
rich lad and poor lay close beside each other 
in the same covert, a clump of little spruce, 
and studied the scene before them. 

On the plain below, two miles away, a vil- 
lage was spread out, and basked in sunshine. 
The hills enclosed it in a circle of dark green, 
which contrasted beautifully with the lighter 
colors of the cultivated fields. Here and there 
in the surrounding woods appeared open pas- 
tures, dotted with cattle; and the trees of the 

hills seemed repeated in the village, by the 
1 


2 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


elms that towered above the houses. But the 
boys were unconscious of the beauty of the 
scene. 

They were not studying nature, nor yet 
man’s works. Boy-life was what their eyes, 
roving along the hillsides below them, sought, 
but sought at first without success. 

“ They can’t have come yet,” said the dark 
one, quietly. 

“ Oh, Tim, do you think we ’ve puzzled 
them? ” the other cried. “ Those were awfully 
good doubles we made, and bad going that 
we gave ’em. We ’re so little and they ’re so 
big, I ’m scared to death they ’ll catch us, and 
I do so want to beat! Where do you s’pose 
they are? ” 

“ Don’t talk, but get your breath,” said the 
other, sagely. “ Look! ” and he pointed down 
below, to a spot a half-mile away. 

There, emerging from the woods into a 
pasture, was a line of boys, each one perfectly 
distinct to those who watched. “ Arthur first,” 
the dark lad counted. “ Lawrence close be- 


Hare and Hounds 


3 


hind. Duck Lanigan, Biff Spots — Wally 
— and Curly, all over mud!” 

“ That came from the alder swamp,” said 
the fair-haired lad, glancing at his companion’s 
leg. “ I thought I ’d lost you, Tim, when you 
got in so deep.” 

“ Only up to my knee,” said Tim. “ I 
did n’t delay you half a minute, Pelly.” 

“You scared me just the same,” answered 
Pelly, whose real name was Pelham. “ I don’t 
see many more of them coming.” 

The line of boys in the distant pasture had 
lengthened very slowly, and the first few of 
them had now reached, in their dog-trot, the 
other side of the pasture, and were disappear- 
ing in the woods, while the last of them were 
straggling into sight. Though seen across 
such a distance, it was yet possible to make 
out that those who came last had met with 
difficulties. One, as he ran, was holding to- 
gether a torn shirt; another limped; a third 
had his handkerchief bound round his ankle, 
— “ the brier patch,” chuckled Pelly — and 


4 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


the last carried in his hand what appeared 
to be a shoe. Even as they looked he 
stopped, turned, and began to walk toward 
the town. 

“ Jack ’s out of it,” said Tim. “ But where 
are the rest?” 

“ There they are! ” cried Pelly, and pointed 
in quite another direction. 

A cheerless procession showed in one of the 
lower fields which bordered the town ; six boys, 
in a spiritless group, were trudging homeward. 
One, too fat, was winded and exhausted, but 
cheerful; the others showed dejection in every 
line of their bodies, and one even appeared 
to be crying. His aspect was absurd ; rushing 
recklessly at the alder swamp, he had fallen 
flat; the boy who followed, having no time 
either to stop or turn, had used the fallen as 
a stepping-stone, but while leaping clear, had 
thrust the unfortunate deeper in. It was the 
injustice of the calamity, rather than the mis- 
fortune itself, which had made the stumbler 
leave the chase and fill the air with lamenta- 


Hare and Hounds 


5 


tions which all but reached the ears of the 
watchers on the hillside. 

“ I can see him bawl, even if I can’t hear 
him,” said Pelly. 

But Tim, after one glance at the disconso- 
late group, had been studying the situation 
with the air of a general. “ Eight left in the 
chase,” he said, “ and now they ’re out of 
sight. If you ’ve got your breath, we can 
start on again.” 

The other looked at him keenly, daringly. 
“ Will you try the big double? It ’s our only 
chance.” 

For the two knew well that their pursuers 
could outrun them. Tim and Pelham were the 
two smallest of all the boys that played to- 
gether, and they had no hope to win this chase 
except by skill. They had between them the 
two qualities of coolness and daring, a com- 
bination usually hard to beat. Tim rose from 
his place. 

“ Got your breath? ” he demanded. Pelham 
nodded. “ Then how is your bag of scent? ” 


6 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Four scent-bags lay there on the ground; 
two were stuffed with bits of paper, but the 
others were nearly empty, and the lads looked 
into them dubiously. 

“ Shall we go as far as these will take us? ” 
asked Pelham. “We ought to get back.” 

“ But if we don’t we ’re caught.” 

“ And if we do we win.” 

“ Come on, then! ” 

And so at once they started. They left the 
two full scent-bags lying where they were, and 
ran up the hill, casting the paper freely as 
they went. Into the woods they ran, choos- 
ing the bristliest thickets and the closest 
undergrowth, however hard these were to 
pass, knowing that the older boys would find 
them harder still. There was one particular 
growth of sapling pine into which they 
plunged with the instinct of woodsmen, where 
trees grew so thick that a man would have 
had hard work to push through, and where 
branches stuck out so stiffly that the eyes had 
to be guarded. Through this the lads twisted 





“ Into the woods they ran, choosing the bristliest thickets.” Page 6. 




Hare and Hounds 


7 


like ferrets, slipping quickly out on the other 
side, leaving a slender trail; then they crossed 
a blueberry patch, disdaining the cows’ paths, 
and scattering the paper between the bushes, 
where it would be hard to see. Then at last 
they came to a great patch of mountain laurel, 
enormous in extent, where the sticky bushes 
grew higher than a man’s head and thicker 
even than the pines. There they cast their last 
paper, and with their empty bags came quickly 
out, to plunge downhill again on their trail, 
in a hot race for their former hiding-place. 
They had no need to look for paper as they 
ran, but unerringly followed back on their 
track to where the clump of spruce grew, not 
far from the edge of a ravine. At the spruces 
the trail ran thickest of all; no one following 
would suspect a “ double ” there, and for a mo- 
ment, thinking themselves secure, the boys stood 
in a kind of breathless anticipation of triumph. 

“ Safe — so far! ” panted Pelly. 

But Tim grasped his arm. “Down!” And 
the two threw themselves flat. 


8 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


On the hillside below them was the first of 
the pursuers, who had so suddenly emerged 
from the thicket that he all but caught his 
prey napping. He stopped his run, looked 
along the trail, looked back, and cast a roving 
glance up along the hillside. The two boys 
were partially concealed by the grasses, but 
as Pelham looked through them he knew not 
how much of himself was visible, nor if the 
trail at that point showed to the lad below — 
but he did know well how keen was the sight 
of the pursuer, his own brother. Tim pressed 
his head close to the earth, but with irrepressible 
curiosity Pelham still looked, and waited, it 
seemed to him, a full minute, while his brother, 
drawing full breaths, studied the open ground. 
Then a second lad came from the bushes, and 
the two, at a jog, crossed the opening and 
again disappeared in the bushes. 

“We must have been slow,” said Tim. 

“ No, they were fast,” said Pelham, briefly. 

The older boys indeed had been going fast. 
When the two smallest had been allowed to 


Hare and Hounds 


9 


take their turn as hares, the elder ones ex- 
pected an easy victory. It was only when, 
after struggling over the roughest going in 
the neighborhood, the older lads still caught 
no glimpse of their objects, that they began to 
realize the skill of the younger ones in taking 
advantage of size and lightness. It was harder 
for the taller ones to duck under low branches 
or to slip through vines, and it was more diffi- 
cult still to cross the quaking swamp, where 
Tim, indeed, wet one foot, but where not one 
of the pursuers got over dry-shod; where the 
first to cross had to stop and help the others; 
whence Hop Cudahy turned back with howls; 
and where all the laggards felt their spirits 
fail. It was a long, hard pull along the hill- 
sides, too, for the footing was either slippery 
with pine needles or troublesome among rocks. 
The older lads realized at last that they had a 
genuine task before them, and roused them- 
selves to accomplish it. Therefore they reached 
the second open space sooner than they were 
expected. 


10 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


As Tim and Pelham watched, another and 
another boy appeared below them, crossing the 
open ground, until the last had gone. Then, 
with an immense sigh of relief, Pelham reached 
out and drew to him his full bag of scent. 

“ If these bags had n’t looked like stones,” 
he said, “ we ’d be goners, sure. Now, can 
we wait a bit more? I ’m all winded.” 

“ They ’ll be here in two minutes,” answered 
Tim. “ Come on, now.” 

Still breathing hard, they started through 
the spruces, laying a thin trail away from the 
main one, and leading it where it would best 
be concealed, but always toward the ravine. 
They left the thicket and crossed an open 
space, where luckily the grass was tall and 
hid the scent. Then below them opened the 
ravine, and they sprang down its slope with 
relief. They went as silently as possible ; they 
caught at bushes, held by trees, and leaped 
from rock to rock. The lower they went the 
louder rose the sound of the brook, and they 
took less pains. Here the brake grew thickly, 


Hare and Hounds 


11 


and within it Pelham scattered the paper, for 
concealment. Then they reached the brook 
itself, but instead of crossing they stepped 
into the cold water. Dropping their paper 
into the brook, they turned up stream, while 
the scent floated down. 

Then a shout from above made them pause, 
and they stood to listen, with a sudden fear 
that the big boys had discovered their trick 
and would be after them. Five seconds, ten 
seconds, of painful waiting; then they heard 
the shout from farther away, and knowing 
that they were safe, realized that they had 
been standing shin-deep in cold water. 

“ Come on,” said Pelham, and up the stream 
they waded. 

But the rocks were slippery, the stream was 
swift, and they had not gone forty yards be- 
fore a little cascade stopped them. Wet to 
their knees, they climbed out on the farther 
side and began to mount the hill again, once 
more taking pains to leave the trail, although 
distinct, so thin as not to be seen from any 


12 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


distance. Up, up they went, diagonally along 
the steep slope, until at the top they were 
breathless again. There they were forced to 
pause, and listened through their gasping for 
the voices of their pursuers. But not a sound 
was heard from across the ravine, and in a 
few moments they pulled themselves together. 

“We’ve fooled ’em!” panted Pelly. 
“ That ’s — the longest double — of the sum- 
mer. It ’ll take ’em a while to pick up — the 
main trail.” 

“ Come on,” answered Tim, more careful of 
his breath. 


CHAPTER II 


“A NICE BROTHER ! ” 

S TILL through the woods they went, 
Pelham always a foot or two in the lead, 
with Tim pounding doggedly at his 
shoulder. Pelham ran with his head high, look- 
ing all about him ; while Tim held his head low, 
his eyes on the path he meant to take. They 
were great ramblers, those two, and knew the 
woods far better than did their pursuers. 
Sometimes Pelham cast the scent, sometimes 
Tim; but except for the words, “Your turn 
now,” they saved their breath for the business 
of running. Still mindful of ' the fact that 
the older boys could run faster on the level, 
they took every advantage of the ground, cast 
the scent in fern or bushes as they brushed 
through, or ran where they knew the wind 
would drift the paper to rougher ground. 


14 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


As they jogged on, suddenly Tim caught his 
stocking in a thorn, which, before he could stop, 
stripped it down almost to his ankle. An in- 
stant’s pause and the stocking was in place 
again, but Pelham had seen that Tim’s leg 
was all bruised and discolored. 

“ What hurt you? ” he cried. 

“ Rip,” was the answer. 

“ How? ” asked Pelham. 

“ Kicking my shins.” 

“ And what for? ” 

“ Because I did n’t black his boots well 
enough. They were wet.” 

Pelham ran on, though his face flushed 
deeper from his thoughts than from exertion. 
At length he said, as if not trusting himself 
to say more: — 

“ A nice brother! ” 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” answered Tim, and 
they jogged on without more words. 

Next, as they entered a little clearing, they 
saw before them a man stooping at the foot of 
a tree; his back was toward them, and he was 


A Nice Brother! ” 


15 


working vigorously. Pelham pointed him out 
to Tim. “ Nate digging roots for his dyeing,” 
he said. “ Let ’s make him jump.” 

“ Make Nate jump! ” retorted Tim. 

Yet they ran toward him as silently as they 
could. While they were still fifty yards away, 
running upon moss, he turned, saw them, and 
bent again over his work. They passed close 
to him and threw their bits of paper upon him, 
but he did not look up. 

“Hullo, boys!” he grunted. 

“Hullo, Nate!” they answered, and kept 
on. 

Their bags were half empty now, but the 
boys were nearing the town. They began to 
cross cultivated fields, and then for a while 
they ran upon a road. Then they struck into 
a patch of woods, crossed a cornfield, and came 
again upon the brook which they had earlier 
crossed. But now the stream was broad and 
deep, a little river, and they went along it, 
casting longing eyes about for means of cross- 
ing, yet knowing that there was no way across, 


16 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


or only one, before they came to the bridge a 
mile away. 

There was, to be sure, a chance for a last 
trick, carefully studied and much discussed, 
but rejected each time they had talked it over. 
And yet there was need of it, for though up 
to now their tricks had been clever and baffling, 
on straight stretches of the run the bigger boys 
had gained steadily, and were not at any time 
to be thrown entirely off the scent. The 
younger ones had never hoped for that; they 
knew Pelham’s brother too well, and Lawrence 
Blair, and even Duck Lanigan, not to be sure 
that by perseverance and skill they would be 
able to work out even the smaller ones’ best 
“double,” which was the longest, and (as the 
big boys later acknowledged) the cleverest of 
all that had been made that summer. That pine 
scrub, and that laurel thicket, and after that the 
beginning of the new trail itself — well, it was 
nearly ten minutes after the little boys plunged 
into the ravine before the pursuers followed. 
But the trick at the brook had been “ easy,” 


“ A Nice Brother! 


17 


and from that time the hounds, though they 
never once had their prey in sight, had been 
coming up on the hares rapidly. 

Pelham knew it. That was why, as they ran 
along the straight stream, he cast daring 
glances at the water, wishing that he might 
venture its passage. But that was against 
all rules, both of parents and of boys them- 
selves, since the stream was swifter and deeper 
than it looked; and while a good swimmer 
could cross easily, another, too ambitious, or 
overheated with the run, might have a serious 
mishap. Therefore in the paper chases all 
swimming was barred, and the boys always 
played fair. Yet Pelham knew, as he re- 
hearsed these reasons to himself, that from this 
point the running was all on level ground, so 
open that any delay for tricks might give his 
pursuers sight of him. Therefore his longing 
glance was transferred to a great clump of 
willows which rose in front, drooping over 
the stream. 

But Tim, also looking ahead, saw with a 


18 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


start what Pelham overlooked: two young 
fellows who came toward them, along the bank 
of the stream. The path was narrow, and they 
were sure to meet, but Tim had no desire to 
encounter his brother Rip, who had so marked 
his shins. The time was late Saturday after- 
noon, and the two young men were just out 
from their work at the mill, but not for the 
purpose of admiring nature. “ Fun,” as they 
said, or mischief, as others might put it, was 
their object. A minute, and the four were close 
together. Pelly, with his ambitious eye still 
on his willow-tree, would have passed without 
noticing who the strollers were, and Tim cast 
his eyes upon the ground. But they were not 
allowed to pass. 

“ Hold on there! ” cried Rip. 

Pelly’s attention came suddenly to nearer 
things when he felt a hand clutching his 
shoulder. He stopped, but shook the hand off 
angrily. 

“ Keep your hands off me, Rip McCook! ” 
he cried. 


A Nice Brother! ” 


19 


But Rip, with a mocking light in his eye, 
blocked the path. “ Where are you goin’ ? ” 
he demanded. 

He was loosely built and loosely dressed, and 
even his eyes seemed loose in his head as he 
looked from one to the other of the boys. His 
face was weak, but strong for mischief; no 
match in body for others of his age, he yet 
was ready to bully boys younger than himself. 
The one who was with him seemed an echo of 
him, — weaker yet, even in desire for ill. 

“We ’re playing hare and hounds,” said 
Pelham, hotly. “ You can see that well enough, 
and you too, Johnny Bragin. Let us go by.” 

But the stream was on one side, a fence 
upon the other, and Rip could easily bar the 
way, as he did. “ Oh, don’t hurry,” he said. 

Johnny Bragin laughed uneasily. 

They all knew that Pelham had a weapon 
which he could use — the threat of complaint 
to his father, who employed Rip, and in fact 
employed almost every workman in the village, 
in his mills. But they also knew that that was 


20 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


a threat which Pelham would not use; it was 
not in his code of fair play. Yet it exasper- 
ated him that Rip should so take advantage 
of him. He was only twelve years old, and 
Rip was twenty; he stood not quite so high 
as Rip’s shoulder. But Pelham advanced 
fearlessly. 

“If you spoil this run you ’ll hear from 
all of us,” he said. “ Now stand out of the 
way! ” 

Rip, himself a thorough jackal, understood 
what meant the threat of a pack of young 
lions at his heels. He snarled, but stood aside. 

“You ’re awful smart,” was all he could 
think to say. Pelham answered only by a 
glance of contempt, and as Johnny Bragin 
also stepped out of the path, the boy sprang 
forward at full speed. Tim started to follow, 
but Pelham’s contempt had stung Rip, and he 
took his small revenge. He thrust out his foot 
and sent Tim sprawling. 

Pelham heard the thump, stopped, and 
looked back. There lay Tim quiet on the 


A Nice Brother! ” 


21 


path; he seemed unable to move. Rip stood 
over him, smiling — sneering, rather. All 
Pelly’s blood boiled at the trick, and he 
dashed at the bully. 

Pelham was an electric boy, sudden, silent 
in attack, and in the moment of his enthusi- 
asms irresistible by forces, whether mental or 
physical, stronger than his own. Before Rip 
knew it Pelly was beside him, leg crooked to 
leg, arms around the lank waist. Rip scarcely 
felt the clasp before all Pelly’s strength was 
thrown into the heave. Startled at the assault, 
Rip could not gather himself to resist before 
it was too late. His balance gone, the leg 
behind his prevented recovery, and neatly back- 
heeled, he fell toward the stream. His legs 
remained uj>on the shore, hut waist, shoulders, 
and head splashed into the water. Pelly saw 
his frightened eyes, noticed his mouth gasping 
with the shock of the cold; then the water 
filled both eyes and mouth, and Rip went 
under. 

Johnny Bragin seized his feet, and Pelly 


22 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


turned to Tim, who was scrambling up. 
“ Hurt?” 

“ Only shaken up.” 

“ Come on, then.” 

Yet for an instant they paused to watch 
the struggle between Rip’s legs and Johnny 
Bragin. Johnny was so alarmed that he could 
not pull his companion out; he merely held to 
the legs, while his pale blue eyes stared in 
doubt at the two little boys. The bank shelved 
quickly there, and Rip’s head and body were 
completely out of sight; only his hands pro- 
truded, vainly clutching. 

“ I ’ve got him,” said Johnny, dubiously. 

But Pelly rushed at him. “ You re drown- 
ing him,” he cried. “ Let go, or pull him 
out!” 

Johnny let go, and at once Rip’s head ap- 
peared above water. His hands reached up 
and grasped a bush, and the breath which he 
had successfully been holding came out with 
a puff. He glared at Johnny until he could 
speak. 


A Nice Brother! 


23 


“You idiot! ” he spluttered. Then his eyes 
turned on Pelly, as a greater subject for 
wrath, and looked unutterable threats. 

“ Good-bye, Rip,” said Pelly; and as Rip 
began to struggle up the bank the two smal- 
ler boys ran on. It would be something to 
chuckle over later, but was too serious now. 
“All that time lost!” Pelham grumbled. 

“ They ’re after us,” warned Tim, looking 
back. 

It was true, and Rip and Johnny Bragin, 
loose- jointed though they were, were not to 
be despised at middle-distance running. 

“ Then we ’ll try the tree! ” cried Pelly, and 
Tim noted the ring of joy in his voice. “ Come 
on!” 

It was almost a mile to the bridge, but not 
fifty yards ahead stood the great willow. 
Forgetful of everything, Pelham ran for it; 
but Tim, more cool, put his hand in his bag 
and scattered the scent as he ran. Pelly 
reached the great rough trunk, sprang for a 
limb and caught it, swung himself up, and 


24 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


was ready to help Tim when he got there. 
Tim was safe in the tree by the time Rip 
reached it. 

“ Now we Ve got you!’’ called Rip. “We ’ll 
keep you here till the fellers come.” 

But the boys paid no attention to him. 
Climbing higher, they reached a branch that 
stretched out over the water, and out upon it 
they went, Tim first, and Pelly close behind. 

“Now you ’ll get a ducking if you try to 
drop,” called Rip, supposing that they were 
afraid of him, and forgetting his dripping 
clothes. “Look at ’em, Johnny!” 

“ Look at ’em! ” Johnny echoed. 

But the boys paid no attention to Rip and 
Johnny. Pelham was master now; he gave 
Tim no time to hesitate or to think. The 
great branch stretched clear across the narrow 
stream, and drooped well down upon the other 
side; Pelham knew that those drooping twigs 
were tough and strong. He urged Tim out 
upon the branch, and by constant orders, 
“Don’t look down!” gave him no time to 


A Nice Brother! ” 


25 


think of danger. The branch grew smaller 
as it divided, and at last it began to bend 
beneath them. Tim clutched convulsively, to 
save himself. 

“ Look at ’em!” cried Rip in delight. 

“ Turn and face this way,” ordered Pelham 
from behind ; and Tim obeyed. Pelham turned 
also. 

“Hi!” shouted Johnny Bragin, “they’re 
coming back!” But Pelham simply said: 
“ Now shin down! ” 

“Where shall I land?” asked Tim. 

“ You ’re over the ground,” answered Pel- 
ham. “ Go on ! ” 

They slid lower down the branch, grasping 
at the twigs to stay their speed. The branch 
bent lower; they were both upon the same 
division, when it cracked. 

“ It ’s getting mighty small to hold us both,” 
suggested Tim. Pelham swung across to an- 
other division of the branch, with an ease at 
which he suddenly, when he was safe, shud- 
dered, and nearly lost his hold. But he would 


26 


Pelliam and His Friend Tim 


not let Tim know his own weakness, and or- 
dered again, “ Lower!” Lower they swung, 
and Pelham looked down confidently to meas- 
ure the distance. 

Then Rip understood, and his glee changed 
to fury. “Wha’? What? ” he gasped. “Oh, 
I ’ll lam it into ’em!” And he snatched up 
a handful of stones. 

Zip! and the first stone thrown by Rip cut 
through the leaves a yard away from Pelly’s 
head. He calmly looked at the big boy as he 
poised for another throw, and their eyes met. 
“You don’t dare really try to hit me!” 
Pelly’s eyes said, and red blotches of shame 
and anger came into Rip’s unhealthy cheeks. 
He looked away, set his thin lips with spite, 
and measured the distance to his brother. 

“We ’re swinging nearer the water,” said 
Tim to Pelly. 

“We’ll make it, just the same,” was the 
answer. And they kept on. 

The second stone from Rip struck Tim on 
the leg; he winced, but said nothing. “ Al- 


“ A Nice Brother! 


27 


most there !” said Pelly between his teeth. 
“ Let me get a stone! ” and each boy swung 
lower still. They were now dangling free, 
each grasping a handful of twigs, and their 
feet were not a man’s height from the ground. 
“ Ready to drop? ” asked Pelly. 

“ They ’ll make it! ” yelled Johnny Bragin. 

“ No, they won’t! ” snarled Rip. 

He threw once more, and with too good an 
aim. The stone struck against Tim’s clenched 
hand, and Pelly heard the crack of it. Tim’s 
hand unclenched with the shock and pain, and 
he swung by only the other. 

“ I must drop! ” he called. “ Ready? ” 

But suddenly his grip loosened, and he 
slipped. The buds tore at his hand, and he 
could not stop himself. “Drop!” he called; 
then he lost his grip entirely, and fell. An 
instant later, Pelham tried to drop. 

But the branch, relieved of Tim’s weight, 
was already rising, and spoiled Pelham’s at- 
tempt. Sprawling, snatching vainly at the 
twigs, he came down sidewise, struck upon one 


28 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


foot, and fell half into the river. Tim was 
upon him instantly, and dragged him out. 

“Are you hurt?” demanded Tim. 

“ Give me that stone! ” cried Pelly, furious, 
and reached for one as he tried to scramble 
to his feet. Instantly, on the further bank, 
Rip and Johnny took to flight; but Pelly, as 
he tried to stand, winced, turned pale, and sat 
down again. His hand went to his ankle. 

“ Sprained! ” he said. 


CHAPTER III 


THE RUN IN 

T IM exclaimed in dismay, and the two 
looked around them helplessly. Cross- 
ing by the tree had gained them more 
than a mile, for the big boys could not pos- 
sibly trust their weight on the willow. But 
with Pelly’s sprained ankle how could the two 
use their advantage? Yet Pelham set his teeth. 

“ Give me your handkerchief,” he said, as 
he drew out his own. 

“ You must n’t try to go on,” protested Tim. 
But he drew out the handkerchief. His was 
the persistence which made the success of half 
their enterprises, but the conception of them, 
and the original headlong speed, was usually 
Pelly’s. Tim was used to accepting the other’s 
propositions, which had saved them more than 
once at a pinch. Besides, he saw that Pelham 
was confident. 


30 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Help me to rise/’ Pelham said. “ Now,” 
when they stood side by side, “ put your foot 
side of mine — so. Now tie our ankles 
together.” 

“Good!” exclaimed Tim, and bound the 
ankles securely. Many a time they had prac- 
tised together in the three-legged race; now 
their skill was to be tested. 

“ Tim,” said Pelham, as he stood waiting, 
“ I don’t see my scent-bag anywhere. Did it 
fall into the river? ” 

There was nothing else that could have hap- 
pened to it. “ It must have,” answered Tim. 

“ Well, never mind,” said Pelly. “ How ’s 
your hand?” 

“ Aches; but that ’s nothing. I can use it.” 

“ Come on, then! I ’ll lean on you as little 
as I can.” 

They started. It was slow work at first, 
but soon they went more quickly. Step by 
step, first on the coupled feet and then on 
the free ones, they went at a clumsy walk, 
trying to make it freer and faster. Tim had 


The Bun In 


31 


his arm around Pelham’s waist, Pelham had 
a hand on Tim’s shoulder; it would not have 
been difficult to go thus, had they not needed 
to throw out the scent. This occupied their 
remaining hands, which were really needed in 
balancing; Pelham held the bag, Tim dipped 
into it and cast the paper, — if the bag had 
only been differently made either could have 
managed it with one hand, but there was no 
use in regretting that now. 

They fell into the swing of it at last, and 
considering the circumstances their speed was 
excellent. And yet it was fatiguing to walk 
thus for any distance; a quarter-mile seemed 
tremendous, with Pelham’s leg hurting him 
at every step and Tim’s back beginning 
to ache with the weight he was carrying. 
Reaching a boulder which topped a little rise 
of the ground, without words they stopped 
and sat down. Then they looked at each 
other. The sweat was pouring down their 
faces. 

“ Tough,” said Pelly. 


32 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Yep,” answered Tim. Puffing, they looked 
about them. 

Ahead lay the town, with most of its houses 
clustered around the church, whose spire rose 
above the trees and roofs. To the right of 
the town stood the mill, with the workmen’s 
houses close at hand; and to the left were 
the houses of the well-to-do, among them, 
largest of all, Pelham’s own house, their 
present goal — for if they could but touch 
one of the gateposts they were safe. It was 
not far away. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Pelham in vexation, “ if 
I could run they ’d never catch us now, even 
if they crossed the brook as we did.” 

“ They are at the tree now,” said Tim. 

In fact, the leaders of the hounds were 
already at the tree, examining the situation. 
There was the trail, leading straight to the 
foot of the tree; across the brook it began 
again, and led away toward home. “ Do you 
suppose,” demanded one, “ that they crossed 
on that branch?” 


The Run In 


33 


“Just like ’em,” grunted Duck Lanigan; 
and Arthur, Pelham’s brother, nodded confi- 
dently. He was as sure that the two young- 
sters had crossed that way as that he himself 
could not venture to do so. 

“ There they are now,” said Lawrence Blair, 
and pointed to the two younger lads. 

“Sitting down and waving their hands!” 
grumbled Duck. “ They take it easy.” 

“ They know they ’ve beaten us,” said 
Arthur. “ They ’ve got only a quarter-mile 
to go, and we ’ve a mile more than that.” 
Then he turned down stream. “ Come on, 
let ’s save our law, anyway.” 

For five minutes’ start, or “ law,” had been 
given the hares, and the disgrace of defeat 
would be less to the hounds if they could 
arrive within that time. 

“ They ’re going round by the bridge,” said 
Pelham. “ Come on, Tim; we must make it! ” 
and they proceeded slowly. 

But the scent-bag was nearly empty, and 
Pelham’s brief confidence vanished. It was 

3 


34 


Pelham arid His Friend Tim 


the rule that scent must be cast until the hares 
had reached certain boundaries which stretched, 
roughly, within a furlong of the house, and 
from which, when once reached, hares or 
hounds could run directly in. Yet the boys 
had not enough paper to last so far, and 
it seemed as if, with success so close, they 
would be caught within sight of home. “ But 
we ’ll get to the road, anyway,” declared 
Pelham. 

They reached the road; it was a task to 
climb over the fence, but they accomplished 
it, and stood in the roadway. “ How much 
scent is left? ” asked Tim. Pelham shook the 
bag, but not a single piece of paper fluttered 
down. 

“We may as well sit here and wait,” said 
Tim. 

But Pelham looked about him. He would 
not give in; he would not! The road led al- 
most directly to the house; leaves would do 
for scent, or grass, or — what was that he 
saw? 


The Bun In 


35 


A package of newspapers lay there on the 
road! 

“ Quick!” cried Pelham. 

They hobbled to the package; Tim picked 
it up. It was thick and heavy; there was 
enough paper to take them home. 

“ Open it,” Pelham directed. “ Tear it 
up! ” 

As they staggered on, Tim opened the 
papers and began to tear off little bits. 
From inside the package a smaller bunch of 
paper, clippings evidently, fell into the road. 

“ Give me that! ” cried Pelly. He stuffed 
it into his pocket. “We must n’t waste a bit. 
Now, as fast as we can! ” 

But if it had before been hard to cast the 
scent, it was harder now. Neither lad had two 
free hands; they had to snatch and tear and 
drop the papers as best they might. Pelham, 
as he found himself even using his teeth, began 
to laugh with the excitement of the struggle. 
“ We ’ll do it yet! ” he said, and roused tired 
Tim to greater endeavor. 


36 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Slowly they put the yards behind them, but 
the yards grew to rods, and the rods to a 
furlong. The paper was almost gone, but the 
boundary was near, and in a minute more 
they could walk freely. Then they heard a 
distant yell, a whoop of exultation behind 
them. 

“ They see us,” gasped Tim. “ Can you get 
out those papers from your pocket? We may 
need them.” 

“ No, we won’t,” replied Pelly. “ Here we 
are! ” The last scrap of paper fell from Tim’s 
hand. “ And now make for the gate! ” 

It was not far, not so very far, and they 
called on their reserve of strength. What a 
relief, what a help, to he able to swing their 
arms! Faster they went, and faster. “ Can 
you trot?” asked Tim; but Pelham, through 
his teeth, said, “ Not yet.” He was doing all 
he could. Behind them he knew that the other 
boys were gaining rapidly, — and yet the gate 
was so near ! His foot hurt more and more, but 
he did n’t care, he did n’t care ! Faster still ! 


The Run In 


37 


Now came capering to meet them those boys 
who had turned back at the alder swamp, and 
had waited at the goal to see the finish of the 
chase. They yelled encouragement, and the 
spirits of the hares rose. A little farther, only 
a little! “You’ll make it!” Fatty Benson 
shouted ; but then the hares heard behind them 
the very steps of their pursuers. “ Run ! ” or- 
dered Pelham. And with that sound in their 
ears the two lads, tired as they were, actually 
ran! 

Twenty yards more — ten yards! Pelham 
heard panting at his very back; he knew that 
a hand was outstretched to grasp his shoul- 
der, he put the remaining ounce of his energy 
into the last few steps, and collapsed at the 
foot of the post. He clasped it with his arms, 
and laughed in spite of pain. He and Tim 
had won! 

The others rushed up and surrounded them, 
untied the legs, raised both boys from the 
ground, clapped them on the back, and asked 
the cause of the accident. There was laugh- 


88 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


ing and talking all together, till a hoarse voice 
broke through the babel, — a man’s voice. 

“ Who found my papers in the road, and 
tore them up? ” 

Pelham, still supported by Tim, turned to 
see a bearded face close to his, angry and 
threatening. “ Why, I did n’t think — ” he 
was beginning. 

“You!” cried the man, and struck him in 
the face. Pelham reeled a step backward, 
shrieked with the pain in his ankle, and fell. 

Above him Tim stood for a moment hor- 
rified, then with a sob of anger he threw him- 
self on the man. In a mass the other boys 
followed his example. Well had Rip McCook 
known what a pack of young lions they could 
be. The man was no match for them; they 
seized his arms, his legs, his waist, and threw 
him to the ground. There they piled upon 
him, and held him helpless. 

“ Let me go! ” he roared, struggling. 

Arthur, shaking with anger, poised his fist 
above the man’s face. “ Lie still! ” he shouted 


The Run In 


39 


in return, “ or I ’ll — ” The flash of his eye 
completed the threat, and the man lay quiet. 

“ I see your father coming,” piped one of 
the small boys. “ Your brother ’s with him.” 

“ Hold him fast,” said Arthur to the others, 
“ and if he ’s hurt Pelly he ’ll smart for it.” 

But Pelham sat up. “I — I’m all right,” 
he said weakly. “ Let him go, boys.” 

“ Get away then, quick,” was Arthur’s com- 
mand as the boys released the man. “ Don’t 
wait till my father comes.” The stranger, cast- 
ing a glance at the approaching figures, rose 
in haste to his feet and ran away. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE MASTER DYER 

W HEN Mr. Dodd, accompanied by his 
eldest son, arrived upon the scene, 
the man who had struck Pelham was 
gone, and Pelly himself was being lifted to 
his feet by his friends. 

“ What ’s all this? ” asked Mr. Dodd. 

He was a bearded man of middle age, a man 
kept pale by close application to his work, hut 
affectionate and kindly. Beside him his son 
Bob, tall and bronzed, looked upon the scene 
with a twinkle much like his father’s, and list- 
ened to the chorussed explanations of the chase 
with an amused understanding of the ways of 
hoys. But when they heard of the stranger’s 
blow, Mr. Dodd frowned, and Bob clenched 
his fist. 


The Blaster Dyer 


41 


“If I had been here! ” he cried. Then he 
turned to Pelly, and with ease lifted him to 
the crook of his arm. 

“ Hurt, old fellow? ” he asked. 

“ Nope,” answered Pelly, indifferently, 
though his heart swelled at the proof of his 
brother’s affection. 

Meanwhile Mr. Dodd had turned to Tim. 
“You two ran well,” he said warmly. “Will 
you stay to supper with us, Tim? ” 

Stay to supper with the Dodds ! Tim flushed 
at the honor, but his pleasure faded at the 
sight of Pelham on his brother’s arm. “ If 
only I,” thought Tim, “ had a brother like 
that! ” And thus reminded, he answered Mr. 
Dodd that he could not stay, for he must go 
home. 

“ I hope your brother will learn to treat you 
better,” said Mr. Dodd. 

Tim said nothing. He had little hope of 
that. 

“ If he does n’t,” called Bob, beginning to 
carry Pelly up the path to the house, “ he ’ll 


42 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


get mixed up with me. I think Pelly fell in 
with two of a kind to-day.” 

“ I think he did,” agreed Tim. 

“ Good-bye, Tim,” cried Pelham. “ Come 
and see me to-morrow. I suppose I stay in 
the house for a day or two.” 

“ A week or two,” laughed his brother, and 
he carried Pelham away entirely. Mr. Dodd 
followed, his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. 

With that picture of brotherly affection and 
paternal kindness before his eyes, Tim turned 
toward his own home. He went slowly, linger- 
ing while the others hastened to their suppers. 
Not that he was not hungry, for he was. But 
he enjoyed the friendly feeling among his 
mates, he liked the praise they gave him for 
the day’s run, and his steps dragged the more 
at each denunciation of Rip McCook. 

They were not pleasant in his ears, for they 
did him no good. Threats come easily when 
you do not have to live with their object, but 
Tim lingered because he knew that on going 
home he would have to face his brother. His 


The Master Dyer 


43 


hand, which in his excitement he had forgotten, 
began to throb. He found it swollen, and the 
increasing ache reminded him of many a smart 
which he had suffered at Rip’s hands. He well 
knew, also, which side his father would take in 
any question between Rip and himself; and 
a dread, which was not cowardly, rose in his 
heart at the thought of the only home he knew. 
In Tim’s mind the memory of the chase died 
away, the praise of his mates sounded empty, 
and he saw the picture of himself facing the 
two grown men. 

The last of the boys left him, and he went 
with dragging feet toward the little street on 
which he lived. He felt the impulse to turn 
back, to go to the Dodds, anywhere, if only he 
could put off this meeting for a while. But he 
went steadily on. Then a voice hailed him. 

“ What ’s wrong with ’ee, lad? ” 

There on the steps of a cottage stood Waters 
the dyer, smoking his pipe, and leaning against 
the door. Tim shook his head, and was going 
by, but the man went on : 


44 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ In a hurry to have it over with? ” 

Tim stopped. He liked this Englishman, 
who had odd ways of speech, a kindly eye, and 
a manly face. Waters always wore the little 
English cap, and smoked a short English pipe, 
just as if he still lived in “ th’ old country.” 
In spite of his grizzled hair, he and the boy 
were good friends. 

“ What do you know about it? ” asked Tim. 

“ I heerd your feyther and Rip talking about 
’ee. You ’ll catch it at home.” 

“ It ’s nothing new,” replied Tim, starting 
on again. 

“Come in here, I tell ’ee!” cried Waters. 
“ They can’t see, and I ’ve made ready.” 

“What do you mean?” Tim asked, but he 
followed the dyer into the house. 

Waters lived by himself. He had neither 
wife nor child, but refusing to lodge at any of 
the mill-men’s boarding-houses, he rented one 
of the cottages which Mr. Dodd had built for 
his workmen, and lived there alone. He was 
not very intimate with the men of the mills, 


The Master Dyer 


45 


who respected him, indeed, but could not get 
within his reserve. Only the boys ever saw the 
inside of his house, for he seemed to have a 
special interest in them; and of them all Tim 
was his favorite, having even tasted his 
cooking. 

Waters’ house was clean and fresh, inside 
and out. His yard was always neat, he kept a 
grass-plot where his neighbors had but bare 
earth, and he grew plants which climbed his 
porch or flowered beneath his windows. No 
woman ever crossed his threshold, for he had 
no need of them, since every bit of his work 
was done by himself. His own cooking, his 
own sewing, his own sweeping and dusting, 
were his pride. Now, as Tim stepped within 
the door, he felt the full force of the contrast 
between this place and his own slovenly home. 

“ Come into the kitchen,” said Waters. 

There on the table were a plate and a knife, 
butter, bread, buns, and a glass of milk. In 
spite of himself Tim’s hungry eyes fastened 
on them at once, and Waters laughed aloud. 


46 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ I knew what you ’d be wanting,” he said. 
“ Fall on, then! ” 

But Tim drew back. “ It would n’t be fair,” 
he said. 

“Not fair to take my food when your father 
will likely give ’ee none?” roared Waters. 
“Will ’ee go to bed supperless? Fall on, I 
say! ” 

“ I can’t,” answered Tim. 

“ Pooh! ” said Waters, and strode back into 
his front room. Tim followed timidly. He 
could not really explain why he refused the 
food, except that he thought his father would 
wish to send him to bed hungry ; in which case, 
hungry to bed he ought to go. 

“ You ’re not cross with me? ” he asked. 

“ No,” answered Waters, gruffly. 

“ What is it, then? ” Tim persisted. 

“ I ’m proud of ’ee,” said Waters, fiercely. 
“ That ’s what. Heaven knows your father 
does n’t deserve a son like you — and Heaven 
pardon me for speaking against your own 
flesh and blood. Go home, lad, and take your 


The Master Dyer 


47 


punishment like a man, whatever you ’ve done, 
and if your father lays it on too hard, tell me, 
and I ’ll thrash him in his own house! ” 

“ Good-bye,” said Tim, suddenly much 
moved, and turning toward the door. Why 
could every one be kind to him but his own? 

“ Stay,” commanded Waters. “ Wipe your 
eyes, and don’t meet your father with a tear 
on your cheek. And tell me, too, why I 
have n’t see you much lately.” 

“ I ’ve been sawing wood,” explained Tim. 
“ Father bought a couple of cords.” 

“ He saws none of it, I ’ll be bound,” rapped 
out Waters. “No, nor Rip either. Precious 
pair ! — But there ’s something more between 
ye all, I ’m thinkin’ ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Tim. “ I ’m twelve years old 
to-morrow.” 

“ Well? ” 

“ And father wants me to go into the mill.” 

There was silence for a moment, while 
Waters gazed at the lad. Though the man’s 
hair was grizzled, his eyebrows were still black, 


48 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


and now they drew together into a frown. As 
he studied the sturdy boy, who looked at him 
frankly, almost appealingly, his heart stirred 
within him. Then he burst out. 

“ Go into the mill? Yon go into the mill? 
You grow thin that be so strong, and you grow 
pale for lack of sun and breathing cotton dust? 
That never should be in this world! ” 

Tim drew a long breath. “I’m glad you 
think so, Mr. Waters! ” he cried with relief. 

“ What ’s your feyther think in’ of? ” de- 
manded Waters. “ What need for you to go 
to the mill? Two can support two.” 

“ He says two is one too many to be idle at 
home, and if Bridget were stronger he ’d send 
her too.” 

“ Aye, and he ’d set a babe from the cradle to 
work for him! ” cried Waters. “ The greed of 
the man! And you idle at home, he says? 
Bridget too ? When no lad of your age works 
as hard as you, and Bridget fair sick with his 
bullying, and only that. — But I ’ll not be- 
little your father before your face. Only 


The Master Dyer 


49 


promise me this, not to go into the mill, not for 
two years more.” 

“ And then I ’ll be a dyer! ” cried Tim. 

Waters’ face glowed. “ Good for thee! ” he 
cried. “ Dyeing is the only trade. Leave com- 
mon men to run mules and looms, but do ’ee 
come to me in two years’ time, and I ’ll teach 
’ee all of the dyer’s art. There ’s not a thing 
I know but I ’ll teach it thee ! ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Waters! ” cried Tim. And they 
struck hands on it as if they both were men. 

Then Tim went home. With the new cour- 
age from his friend’s support, he went to face 
the old struggle, which he had borne now for 
months — the struggle, against two men, of a 
boy fighting for the right to live his own life, 
to be himself. 

Waters watched him go. “ My boy would 
have been just about his age,” he murmured to 
himself. “If only I had him now — such a 
boy as that! ” 


4 


CHAPTER V 


THE FAMILY OF McCOOK 

T IM arrived at his own house. It was 
the slovenliest dwelling in the town. 
In place of grass, weeds grew about 
the house; a boot lay here, a pile of tin cans 
there; a barrel, collapsed, graced the nearer 
view, and at the further fence a line of shabby 
washing fluttered in the breeze. A scrawny 
girl, who was just beginning to take in the 
clothes, wrung her hands at the sight of Tim, 
and hastened toward him, making a gesture 
of caution. 

“ Oh, Tim! ” she whispered loudly, as soon 
as she got near; “they’re waiting for you 
inside.” 

“ At supper? ” Tim asked. 

She nodded. Her face was pale and anxious, 
an uneasy and plaintive face, suggestive of a 


The Family of McCook 


51 


dog who, living with a hard-tempered master, 
never knows for a minute the feeling of secur- 
ity. Poor Bridget was conscientious and hard- 
working, but it was fear and not work which 
made her thin. “Don’t go in!” she begged. 
“ I ’m afraid of what they ’ll do to you.” 

“ Nothing worse than before,” answered 
Tim, with a foot on the step. 

“ Oh, don’t go! ” she repeated. 

A harsh voice sounded from the open win- 
dow of the house. “ Bridget, butter! ” 

“ Yes, sir,” she answered hastily, and ran 
to the back of the house, to enter by the rear 
door. Tim, still brave but feeling very hollow, 
went in by the front, hung his hat in the hall, 
and walked into the kitchen. There at the 
table sat McCook and Rip, facing each other, 
silent and busy, knife in hand. Rip faced the 
door, and as he saw the boy a light leaped into 
his sullen eyes. At the sound of Tim’s en- 
trance, the elder McCook turned slowly in his 
chair. 

“ So there you are at last! ” he said, in the 


52 


Pelliam and His Friend Tim 


harsh voice which had so startled Bridget. 
McCook was a tall, lean man, with a frowning 
brow and a small chin. 

“ I ’m sorry to be late, father,” answered 
Tim. Not intending to provoke the storm by 
the appearance of dreading it, he took his seat 
at the table, passed to his father the plate of 
butter which Bridget just then set upon the 
table, and helped himself to the bread. But 
the bread was instantly snatched from his 
hand. 

“ What,” cried his father, throwing it back 
upon the plate, “ will you expect to have 
supper after what you Ve done? ” 

Tim sighed drearily — again no supper! 
How many times did lie go empty to bed for 
the least fault? Then with quiet acceptance 
of his father’s injustice he rose to his feet. 
“ Shall I go to my room? ” he asked. 

“ Listen to him,” sneered his father, exas- 
perated more by Tim’s manner than he would 
have been by tears. For the true bully the 
greatest pleasure is to rule another’s soul, but 


The Family of McCook 


53 


neither of the McCooks ever felt that, slight as 
was the physical resistance which Tim could 
offer them, they could master his spirit. Often 
as they tried, he never flinched — yet they were 
always trying. 

“ No, you ’ll not go to bed,” said McCook. 
“ Stand there, and we ’ll settle the question 
we ’ve so long fooled with, whether or not 
you ’ll go to work. A fine useful boy you are 
to me, running all over the country, and knock- 
ing your brother into the water.” 

“ Pelham threw him down all by himself,” 
stated Tim. 

McCook looked at his elder son. “ You told 
me both of them did it.” 

“ They did! ” asserted Rip, his sallow cheek 
becoming red. “ Tim pushed me, and Pelly 
tripped me. Do you suppose either of them 
could put me down alone? ” 

“ Well,” went on McCook, turning again to 
Tim, and leaving the subject, into which he 
saw it would not be wise to inquire farther — 
for passionate and prejudiced as he was, he 


54 


Felliam and His Friend Tim 


knew well enough which of his sons always 
told the truth. “ Well, you were trapesing off 
with the other boys, anyway.” 

“ I did my day’s work first,” reminded Tim, 
“ — forty sticks of wood.” 

And that had been a hard morning’s work. 
Forty cord-wood sticks, of green oak, each 
sawed three times, with a dull saw, on a saw- 
horse too tall for the boy. It was not until one 
o’clock that, with only a light lunch, he had 
felt free to go for his pleasure with the other 
boys. Not one of them had worked so hard 
that day as he, or was so hungry at evening. 
Yet even with the sight of food before him 
he stood there and answered his tormentors 
with unshaken courage. 

“ Just the same,” said McCook, “ I wanted 
you at home.” 

“ On Saturday afternoon everybody ’s off! ” 
cried Tim. “ You and Rip had no work your- 
selves.” 

“ Stop excusin’ yourself! ” cried his father, 
stung by Tim’s reasoning, “ and tell me how 


The Family of McCook 


55 


soon you ’ll go to work and earn your own 
living.” 

“ I chop the wood and saw it,” replied Tim; 
“ I run all the errands ; I clean your boots, and 
Rip’s. In school-hours I can’t work for you; 
out of school I ’m busy most of the time, and 
now in vacation I pick berries and give you the 
money.” 

“ Think you do a good deal, don’t you?” 
sneered Rip. 

Tim would not answer, out of very disdain 
of him. Rip scowled and snarled at the boy’s 
lofty carriage, and McCook grew angry. 
They would have been ashamed, could they 
have but realized the contrast they made with 
the splendid boy standing there. Not a f eature 
of them was the same. Rip and his father 
were lean and sandy-haired, thin-lipped, and 
narrow-eyed. Their shoulders sloped and their 
chests were flat — typical mill-workers were 
they in their bodies, and in their minds they 
were men of low stamp, selfish, and cowardly. 
Compared with them Tim shone. He was 


56 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


heavier built, straight-backed, and square- 
chested. His hair was dark, his cheeks full 
and red, and his blue eyes looked on the pale 
gray eyes of the others with a far steadier 
glance. In no two particulars were they alike, 
and it scarcely seemed as if they were of the 
same blood. The men’s glances actually 
shifted before his, as he met them squarely; 
but he saw that his father was preparing to use 
force, and as he heard Bridget whimpering 
in the next room, his heart beat faster, and his 
head suddenly felt light and dizzy. 

“ Bridget,” shouted McCook, “ shut that 
door and stop your noise. — Now, Tim, under- 
stand! You ’re going to work in the mill.” 

“ You promised mother I shouldn’t! ” Tim 
cried. 

“ I don t care,” was the answer. “ On Mon- 
day morning I take you to the mill, and Mr. 
Dodd will set you to work.” 

“ He ’ll ask me first,” answered Tim, 
“ whether I want to work. He asks that of 
every boy that ’s not fourteen.” 



Tim reeled back against the wall, pressing his hand to his lip.” Page 57. 





The Family of McCook 


57 


“ Let him ask,” said McCook. “ It ’s easy 
enough to say Yes.” 

“ He ’ll know I don’t want to work, because 
Pelly knows.” 

“ So you ’ve been blabbing? ” demanded 
McCook. “ Then you don’t go with those 
Dodd boys any more.” 

Tim’s heart sank. He knew that his father 
could keep him away from Pelham, whom he 
loved better than himself. It was the worst 
threat that McCook could make, but in his 
anger he did not see the telltale dismay on 
Tim’s face. “ Understand,” commanded Mc- 
Cook, “ when Mr. Dodd asks you if you want 
to work, you say Yes! ” 

“ I ’ll say No! ” replied Tim. 

In an instant his father, starting from his 
chair, had — oh, cruel, cruel ! — struck him on 
the mouth. Tim reeled back against the wall, 
pressing his hand to his lip, whence blood was 
flowing. 

“ That ’ll show you ! ” roared McCook, his 
eyes flashing fiercely. “If on Monday you 


58 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


don’t go to the mill and take your work quietly, 
I ’ll thrash you so you ’ll never forget it.” 

Tim, indomitable, spoke through swollen 
lips. “ I won’t go into the mill. I ’ll never 
work at spinning or weaving. But in two years 
I ’ll go into the dye-rooms, and earn better 
wages than if I go to work now.” 

“ The dye-rooms! You? ” sneered McCook. 
“ Only the picked boys go there. And shall 
I support y'our lazy body for two more years? 
Go to the shed, confound you, and split to- 
morrow’s wood! ” 

“ And black my shoes! ” ordered Rip, start- 
ing from his chair to point an exultant finger 
at the lad. “ You said you could n’t black wet 
shoes, but you can try again.” 

Tim turned and went out into the woodshed, 
where he had piled the wood which in the morn- 
ing he had sawed. Plenty of it lay there split 
and ready f or the fire ; to ask him to split more 
was merely punishment. And there were 
Rip’s boots, muddy and still damp from their 
bath in the river. While Tim stood looking at 


The Family of McCook 


59 


them he heard some one come to the rear door 
of the shed and secure it by propping a stick 
of wood against it. He was shut in! 

Suddenly his whole soul rose up in arms 
against such treatment. He knew there were 
such things as kindness, affection, gentleness 
in the world, for he had seen them in his 
friends. He knew he did not merit this harsh- 
ness. No, he would not work in the mill, to 
give up all that was good in his life and gain no 
better treatment. Had his father, had any 
father, the right to treat a son like this? 

In revolt, Tim strode to the bench where 
stood the boots, seized them, and flung them in 
the corner. He sat down in their place and re- 
mained there, brooding. Darkness began to 
gather, and his father called at the door: 
“ Have you chopped any wood? ” 

Tim made no answer. 

“ You ’ll stay there all night unless you do,” 
said McCook, “ and it ’ll soon be too dark to 
begin.” 

He went away, but Tim sat still, and after 


60 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


a while Rip came to the door. “ Have you 
blacked my boots? ” 

Again Tim made no answer, and Rip added : 
“ Sleep on the woodpile, then, but be sure you 
have the boots ready in the morning.” 

Darkness came completely. Through the 
window Tim saw the stars, and heard his mates 
shouting in the streets. The time passed on; 
he heard the town clock strike eight, and the 
sounds of the boys’ voices diminished. Nine 
o’clock, and still Tim sat there, rebellious and 
unyielding. Then he heard his father locking 
up the house. He came to the shed door, locked 
it, and went away. Biddy’s step came near, 
and she called softly: 

“ Good-night, Tim.” 

“ Let him alone! ” ordered his father from a 
distance, but Tim answered her good-night. 
Then they went upstairs, and the house was 
silent. 

Tim sat for a long while yet, with his elbows 
on his knees, his chin on his hands, and frown- 
ing into the darkness. He did not know what 


The Family of McCook 


61 


would happen to him, and he could not see his 
way clear, but he told himself, over and over 
again, that he would not yield. Then at last he 
sat upright, leaned against the wall, and slept. 

In the middle of the night he waked sud- 
denly. The moon was shining in at the window 
upon his face, but that had not wakened him. 
He listened, and heard a sound within the 
house: some one was coming down the stairs. 
A board creaked nearer, and then he heard a 
soft patter of feet toward his own door. It 
stopped, and he heard a rustling. 


CHAPTER VI 


B 1 


MRS. McCOOK’S LETTER 

} IDD Y ! ” Tim called cautiously. 

There was no answer. The foot- 
steps retreated, climbed the stairs 
again, and he heard nothing more. 

“ It was Biddy! ” he told himself. 

He slept again, to wake again at last from a 
dream of his mother. So real was it that he 
even heard her voice in his ears after he woke: 
“I’ll help you, Tim, my lad!” He even 
thought he saw her face fading away, and 
stared a long time at the same place, half ex- 
pecting her return. Then he thought with 
regret of her. 

If she were alive she would help him. A 
thin, worn, bullied woman, she yet had courage 
to stand between Tim and the other two; and 
she sympathized, even as Bridget still did, with 


Mrs. McCook's Letter 


63 


his troubles. She had died more than a year 
ago, and with her last words she had recom- 
mended Tim and Biddy to McCook’s and 
Rip’s care. Well had they fulfilled her trust! 

He came to himself with a start, and looked 
about him. It was daylight; his father would 
soon be there. The town clock struck, and re- 
assured him : it was only five o’clock. He rose 
to his feet, stretched himself from the cramped 
position on the bench, and his eye fell on some- 
thing white which lay on the threshold. Going 
nearer, he saw it was a letter. 

That was why Biddy had come downstairs 
in the night. Tim picked the letter up, wonder- 
ing why she should write. But when he looked 
closer, he saw that the writing was his mother’s. 

“ For Bridget to give to Tim,” the address 
read, “ on his twelfth birthday, if McCook 
tries to send him to work at the mill.” 

Tim stared at it. Mrs. McCook had been 
better educated than her husband, and the 
writing was clear. Where she wrote “ Mc- 
Cook ” she had first written “ his father,” but 


64 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


had crossed it out. That was odd, he thought. 
But he was most interested that a letter should 
come with such an inscription, as if she had 
foreseen that McCook’s promise would be 
broken. Eagerly he opened the letter, and 
began to read. 

“ Dear Tim,” it read. “ There is only one 
way to make sure that you don’t work early in 
the mill, in case my husband means to break 
his promise, and that is to write you this. Over 
and over he has told me that he ’ll keep you at 
school till you are fourteen, but I don’t feel 
sure of him, and I can’t have you ruined by too 
early work, if there ’s no need. 

“ He has not even a father’s right, or an 
adopted father’s, for you are no son of ours. 
When my second boy died, there was a woman 
died in our tenement, and she left a boy just 
my baby’s age, one year. I thought I should 
die without a baby to love, and I took the boy, 
— it was you, — and we brought you up, and 
gave you my boy’s name, and his birthday, 
though I never could get my husband to adopt 


Mrs . McCook's Letter 


65 


you. He and Rip have always had a spite 
against you, because I liked you best, and I ’ve 
always had to stand between you and work that 
was too hard for you. 

“ Tell your father that he owes you kindness, 
if only for the hard life that he led me. I 
could not help loving you best, for you loved 
me. I don’t know what you can do if McCook 
keeps on being unkind, except to leave him, and 
that would be hard on Biddy, but perhaps you 
will have to do it. 

“Don’t show your father this letter, for he 
would tear it up. Sons are valuable when they 
bring in five dollars a week. But show the 
letter to Mr. Dodd or James Waters, and they 
can look up the proof of what I say. 

“ God bless you. You have been a good 
son to me, better than the one that ought to 
love me best.” 

Tim stood bewildered, staring at the letter. 
Not McCook’s son! Then whose son was he? 
What was his name? Where was he to turn, 
and on whom had he a claim for help? Badly 

5 


66 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


as the McCooks had treated him, this place, 
even this woodshed, stood for home, and when 
without warning he was thus suddenly cut off 
from them, in his mind dismay struggled with 
relief. 

Then he heard a sound, and there stood 
Bridget at the door. With her finger she 
motioned him t p be silent, and shut it quietly 
behind her. She tiptoed toward him. “ I saw 
where father put the key,” she said. 

“ Oh, Biddy! ” and Tim held out the letter 
toward her. “ You know what this says? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered; “ and sorry I was to 
have to give it to you.” 

“ I ’m not your brother? ” 

“ No,” replied she. “ Lucky for you you ’re 
not.” 

“ Then what shall I do? ” he cried. 

“ I came to say I think you ’d best be going, 
Tim,” she said. “ Father will be awake before 
long, and then there ’ll be nothing but trouble 
for you. There ’s no good in your staying.” 

“ But what about you? ” he asked. 


Mrs. McCook's Letter 


67 


“ I shall miss you enough,” she replied, smil- 
ing sadly. “ But it ’s no great fun for me to 
see you bullied so.” She pointed to the door. 
“ Time is passing, Tim.” 

“ If I go that way,” he said, “ they will know 
you let me out. I ’ll go by the window.” 

“ Well,” she reflected, “ they will know in 
time, anyway, that the letter catne through me, 
but perhaps it will be as well not to know at 
first that I had a hand in it. Go, then, Tim.” 

ITe stepped on the bench and opened the 
high window. Turning to say good-bye, he 
saw that tears were running down her cheeks. 
In a moment he had leaped down and clasped 
her in his arms. 

“Good-bye, good-bye!” he cried. “I’ll 
never forget you ! ” 

“ Nor I you! ” she answered, bending over 
him. 

They kissed each other lovingly. Then he 
sprang again on the bench, wriggled through 
the window, and was gone. 

James Waters the dyer, sleeping his Sunday 


68 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


morning sleep, was aroused by a knocking at 
his door, and grudgingly went to the window. 
“ Who ’s there? ” he demanded, thrusting his 
head out. 

Tim’s eager face looked up at him. “ It ’s 
me,” the boy said breathlessly. “I — I ’ve 
come to stay with you, to live with you, if 
you ’ll let me. Will you take me in? ” 

His face sank as he saw the workman’s face 
grow grim. But the reply came heartily at 
last. “Will I take ’ee in?” asked Waters. 
“ And will I thrash yon liverless McCook when 
he comes after ’ee? Indeed, I will! ” 


CHAPTER VII 


A SUNDAY MORNING ARGUMENT 

T HE doctor gave Pelham to understand 
that his ankle was not very badly hurt, 
but that he must take care not to sprain 
it again. Mrs. Dodd thereupon gave her son 
the choice, either to stay in bed for a week or 
to go on crutches for two and not set his foot 
to the ground . “Crutches,” chose Pelly. Mrs. 
Dodd warned him that it would be hard to 
watch the other boys playing and not be able 
to play, but he answered, “ I can entertain 
myself, mother.” So crutches were sent up 
from the doctor’s, and were given to him early 
the next morning. 

He was so proud of them that he was for 
starting out immediately after breakfast, to 
show them off. “ Where do you propose to 
go? ” asked his father. 


70 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ To Tim’s,” answered Pelly. “ He hurt 
his hand yesterday, and I want to see how 
he is.” 

His father smiled. “ The carriage is going 
down to the post-office in a little while. Wait 
for that, and you shall go.” 

So it was that Pelham, set down at the corner 
of Tim’s street, began to hobble toward the 
McCooks’ house, when his attention was at- 
tracted to a group of people in front of the 
house of Waters the dyer. There, much to 
Pelham’s surprise, he saw Tim on the steps, 
while Waters, standing before him as if to 
protect him, was looking calmly into the group 
below, whence issued a harsh voice, upraised 
in denunciation, which Pelham recognized as 
McCook’s. The boy hobbled thither in all 
haste, and thrust into the crowd, each member 
of which, as soon as he saw who was pushing 
from behind, instantly made way for him. 
Pelham arrived in front of them in time to hear 
McCook end his speech with : “ And I want 
my boy! ” 


A Sunday Morning Argument 71 


“You can’t have him,” answered Waters, 
briefly. 

“ And why not? ” demanded McCook. 

“ Because he ’s not your boy.” 

The neighbors gasped with surprise, and 
with one accord moved closer, Pelham still 
in front, himself agape at the statement. 
McCook at first shrank back, but returned to 
the attack. 

“ Not my boy! ” he cried. “ And why not, 
I ’d like to know? ” 

“ I have here,” answered Waters, pointing 
within the house, “ a letter of your wife’s, 
which Tim brought me early this morning. 
Mrs. McCook, expecting to die and doubting 
your treatment of the lad, wrote him that he 
was not her son, not even adopted, and bade 
him leave you if you insisted on his working in 
the mill.” 

There was another gasp from the crowd, and 
then silence, while all eyes turned on McCook. 
He turned pale at the recital, but made an 
effort to summon his assurance. “ What a 


72 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


pack of lies!” he sneered. “Show me the 
letter.” 

“ I ’ll show it to Mr. Dodd, or a magistrate,” 
answered Waters. “ That ’s all I ’ll do. But 
you know whether it tells the truth.” 

“It’s all lies!” shouted McCook. “The 
boy ’s my son, and my neighbors won’t see me 
denied him. All this is just to keep him from 
going to work, and they ’ll stand by me.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said sturdily a 
man at Pelham’s side. The boy looked at him, 
and recognized Pat Cudahy, a weaver at the 
mill. “No boy of twelve has yet gone to work 
in this town, and none of us will help you put 
the lad in the mill, for all the law allows it.” 

Waters, on the steps, nodded profoundly. 
His eyes never left McCook’s face, but Pel- 
ham noticed that beyond McCook was standing 
Rip, who now began to edge away along the 
circle of gazers, as if to get at Tim. 

Instantly Pelham began to push back out of 
the crowd, so that, by making a larger circle, he 
could be at Tim’s side before Rip. Once out- 


A Sunday Morning Argument 73 


side the crowd, he saw his father’s carriage; 
for the coachman, seeing the crowd, could not 
resist the temptation to stay and listen. 

“Drive home quick!” Pelly said to him. 
“ Get father and bring him here at once! ” 

Delighted to have anything to do with the 
trouble, the coachman at once started for home, 
while Pelham squirmed into the crowd again at 
another place. This time he arrived by the 
steps and stood there close to Tim, who did not 
notice him, being, like Waters, intent upon 
watching McCook. Pelham looked at Rip, 
and saw that in the interval he had sidled a 
yard nearer to Tim. 

“ Well,” McCook was saying, addressing the 
crowd in general, his temper by no means im- 
proved by Cudahy’s bluff remark. “ Well, the 
boy’s mine, anyway, and I ’ll have him in spite 
of any one. Have I brought him up, and cared 
for him, and spent my money on him, to have 
him leave me now because he ’s afraid of 
work? ” 

“ Oh, he ’s not afraid of work,” said Waters. 


74 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


The emphasis raised a laugh from the by- 
standers. McCook was well known as lazy, — 
the first man to leave his loom at the sound of 
the noon whistle, the last to start again at one 
o’clock. The titter made him red with fury. 

“ Don’t you cast any of your sneers at me, 
Waters! ” he cried, shaking his fist at the man 
on the steps. “ I ’ll not have it! ” 

“If the cap fits, put it on,” said Waters, in- 
differently, and the neighbors tittered again. 
McCook stepped nearer the house, and Rip, 
profiting by the movement, slipped still closer 
to Tim, so that a single rush would carry him 
upon the boy. Then he stopped, to watch his 
opportunity; and Pelham placed himself as 
near as he dared to the line w T hich Rip must 
take. Pelham did not wish Rip to notice him. 

“Give me that boy!” demanded McCook. 
“ Give me him, I say! ” 

“ Come and take him,” answered Waters. 
McCook started forward, and stopped. He 
had no wish to come to grips with Waters, but 
again he heard the snicker from behind, and 


A Sunday Morning Argument 75 


between the taunts of Waters, the amusement 
of the neighbors, and the desire of his own 
mean heart, he was enraged almost beyond en- 
durance. His foot touched something: it was 
a stone as large as his fist, and stooping, he 
picked it up. 

“Now, give me the boy!” he commanded, 
drawing back his arm as if to throw. 

There were not ten feet between the men, 
and Waters could not have dodged the stone. 
Instantly his indifference vanished, and his 
eyes flashed. 

“Don’t throw that!” he ordered, and 
stepped to the ground. 

At that Rip, seeing his chance, when all eyes 
were on the two men, dashed for Tim. No one 
saw but Pelham, not even Tim, who with beat- 
ing heart was watching Waters and McCook. 
But Pelham hopped forward on his crutches, 
braced himself firmly, and deftly inserted one 
crutch between Rip’s legs. 

There was a shout from the bystanders, for 
as Rip plunged at full length, butting the earth 


76 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


with his head and ploughing it with his sharp 
shoulder, at the same moment McCook and 
Waters were engaged. The women, with little 
shrieks, started to run away, the men rushed to 
separate the fighters, and the whole scene was 
such as Pelham would have delighted in, had 
he not had his own hands full. For with a 
quickness which he had not expected, Rip 
sprang to his feet, and seeing who had foiled 
him, with a snarl of rage stood for a moment 
hesitating which boy to attack. But Tim saw 
his danger and doubled his fists, and Rip, con- 
cluding that the cripple was the easier prey, 
made for Pelham. 

Instinct stood nobly by Pelly. He knew he 
could not flee, he knew he must not put his foot 
to the ground, but by the athletic instinct of 
one skilled in the use of his body, he under- 
stood what to do. Bracing himself again 
firmly on one crutch and his well leg, Pelham 
settled the other crutch against his shoulder, 
raised its point a little from the ground, and 
waited. Rip was coming with his head up, 


A Sunday Morning Argument 77 


intending thus to guard it from harm, but 
really exposing himself completely. At the 
right moment Pelham pointed his crutch just 
above the buckle of Rip’s belt, and leaned 
toward him. All the force of the collision 
was supplied by Rip ; the resistance was given 
by Pelham’s braced crutch and leg. Beating 
his hands together about a foot from Pelham’s 
face, in the vain endeavor to reach him, Rip 
let out all his breath in a loud gasp, and sank 
in an inglorious heap. At the same moment 
Tim leaped from the steps to Pelham’s aid. 

Then it was all over. Mr. Dodd’s carriage 
came dashing up, and he leaped out, ready to 
interfere. But Rip lay breathless upon the 
ground, his “ wind ” gone, and McCook was 
standing very quietly before Waters, at the 
end of the most thorough shaking which man 
ever gave to man. 

Those who saw that shaking described it 
afterward with delight. Reaching McCook 
just as he was about to throw his stone, Waters 
had seized him by the shoulders and pressed his 


78 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


arms to his side. The stone dropped. Then 
with a rapid movement back and forth Waters 
had appeared to be shaking McCook’s very 
head from his body. Frightened by the close 
neighborhood of Waters’ stern face and flash- 
ing eyes, the weaver made no attempt at resist- 
ance, but yielded himself meekly. For a short 
space he seemed to be strung on wires, and very 
poorly also, for the onlookers expected him to 
come to pieces. His limbs jerked this way and 
that, his head nodded a violent assent to every 
movement of Waters’ hands, his eyes joggled, 
and his very teeth rattled in his head. Mas- 
tering this extreme agitation as well as pos- 
sible, with all mildness McCook managed to 
say: 

“ D-d-don’t!” 

The retreating women, casting backward 
glances, saw the absurd sight, and paused to 
laugh, while the men guffawed. Waters him- 
self ceased his efforts, and released McCook, 
saying with disappointment, “ I can’t even 
shake any manhood into ye.” And Mr. Dodd, 


A Sunday Morning Argument 79 


stepping before the stammering weaver, could 
not help smiling as he asked: 

“ What ’s all this? ” 

“ He hit me! ” cried Rip, raising himself on 
one hand and pointing the other at Pelly. 
“ Your son hit me, Mr. Dodd! ” 

“ What did you do first? ” asked Mr. Dodd. 
Though he had seen nothing, it was no random 
question, for he knew both Pelly and Rip. 

Tim supplied the answer. “ He was going 
to hit me.” Mr. Dodd looked for a moment 
more at Rip, then looked away. And Rip, 
having gained his breath, got himself to his 
feet and skulked off. Mr. Dodd turned to 
the lookers-on. 

“ Since it is Sunday morning,” he said, 
“ you will excuse me if I suggest that you 
leave Mr. Waters’ yard. As I am a magis- 
trate, I will ask a few questions of these two 
men. Now,” he said, when the neighbors had 
departed with broad smiles, “ I ’d like to know 
the whole of this.” 

He heard the story, read the letter, and at 


80 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


last, ignoring Pelham, who crowded close to 
his side, he looked from sulky McCook to Tim, 
who stood waiting with both fear and hope. 

“ McCook,” said Mr. Dodd at last, “ tell 
me the truth of what your wife wrote in this 
letter. Is it so, or is ’nt it? ” 

Under his eye McCook shifted uneasily on 
his feet, looked at the ground, and worked his 
jaws. “ Well,” he said at last in disgust, “ it ’s 
so.” 

Tim sighed with relief, and Pelham yelped 
with delight. “Go away, Pelly,” said his father, 
“ if you can’t keep quiet. Now, McCook, do 
you claim the boy, or don’t you? ” 

“ I don’t want him,” burst out McCook, 
viciously. “ I wash my hands of him. I ’ve 
toiled and struggled for him, I Ve denied my- 
self for him, and he won’t love me. I ’ll have 
no more to do with him, no, not even if he 
comes begging me to take him in! ” 

“ When he asks that, then ye can deny him,” 
said Waters, dryly, and Mr. Dodd with diffi- 
culty kept from smiling as he asked: 


A Sunday Morning Argument 81 


“ What is the boy’s real name? ” 

McCook opened his mouth to speak, looked 
at the others, and paused, for both Tim and 
Waters leaned toward him eagerly. McCook’s 
eyes shifted to the ground. 

“ I don’t know,” he said. 

“ I suppose it ’s a matter of record,” sug- 
gested Mr. Dodd. 

“ The mother was buried under the name 
of Mary Smith,” admitted McCook. 

Tim sighed with relief. Under the circum- 
stances Smith was a far better name than 
McCook. 

“ But,” said McCook, in a curious tone of 
satisfaction, “ she had different initials on her 
clothes. You can find that she died bearing 
that name, but my wife knew it wasn’t hers. 
My wife knew her name.” 

“ What was it?” asked Mr. Dodd. 

McCook would not look at him. “ She 
never told me.” 

“ What were the initials? ” 

“ I never knew.” 


6 


82 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


They believed that he lied, and Tim knew 
it. Tim knew well enough McCook’s shifty 
look, and also his obstinate one. His heart 
sank; then his name was not even Smith. 
Though Mr. Dodd questioned further, he 
could not make McCook “ remember,” and 
at last dismissed him. 

“ To-morrow,” said he, “ I shall direct the 
boy to be brought before me, and will take 
him under my legal care. If anyone,” and he 
looked at Waters, “comes before me, offer- 
ing to take charge of the boy, and if the boy 
accepts his guardianship, then I will give the 
boy into that man’s charge.” 

McCook turned to go. “ I sha’n’t be com- 
ing to ask for him,” he sneered. 

Waters stepped forward. “But I shall!” 
he said. 


CHAPTER VIII 

THE NEW WORKMAN 

I T was not until night that a new idea came 
to McCook. At supper he suddenly struck 
his hand on the table and roared for his 
daughter. “ Bridget, where did Tim get that 
letter? ” 

Bridget came and stood before him, pale as 
usual, but with a new gleam in her eye. “ I 
gave it to him/’ she said. 

“ Knowing all the time what was in it? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Having kept it since your mother died? ” 
“ Yes.” 

“ By all the powers! ” he shouted, rising with 
the same motion with which he had struck Tim 
on the night before. But Bridget raised her 
finger and pointed it at him, and he stopped 
suddenly. 


84 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ I ’m eighteen years of age,” said she. 
“ I ’m one of the hardest- working girls in 
this town. There is n’t a lady here but will 
pay good wages to a willing girl, and if you 
strike me I ’ll never come inside your house 
again.” 

McCook gaped at her, while Rip sat in 
sullen astonishment. If Bridget left them, 
they well knew there would be trouble for 
them. Bridget was cheaper than any servant, 
for she worked without wages, lived in shabby 
clothes, and ate little food. McCook was 
aghast. 

“ Why — why,” he stammered, “ I was n’t 
going to strike you.” 

She turned on her heel. “ Take care you 
never do.” 

McCook, during the rest of the meal, was 
so short with his son that at last Rip rose 
from his seat and shuffled out. “ Aw,” he 
said at the door, “ you ’re too cross to live 
with.” McCook paid no heed to him, having 
just received still another idea. He brooded 


The New Workman 


85 


over it for some time, until at last he rose 
and went stealthily upstairs to Bridget’s 
room. Listening at the door, at length he 
ventured to open it. 

There sat the girl herself, gazing out the 
window. “ What do you want? ” she de- 
manded. 

“ I want the chain and locket your mother 
gave you.” 

“ Why? ” asked Bridget. 

“ I just want it.” 

“ She told me to give it to Tim’s wife when 
he marries.” 

“ I ’ll give it to Tim’s wife.” 

Bridget reflected. She never wore the 
chain ; with her shabby clothes finery was 
not for her. She rose and gave her father 
the chain and locket, and he took them to his 
room. Opening the locket, he read within 
its rim, in tiny lettering: “J. W. to M. S.” 
Then, grinning, he hid it carefully in his 
bureau. 

Two days later he brought a stranger home 


86 


Pelham and PI is Friend Tim 


to supper. “ This is Mr. Volger,” he said, in- 
troducing him to Bridget. 

She looked the stranger over. A great scar 
ran from ear to chin. lie was dark, fresh- 
shaven, but not over-neat, and he did not meet 
her glance squarely. He spoke in a smooth 
voice. “ Very glad to meet you, Miss.” He 
lingered, she found, on the last word of each 
sentence, in a caressing fashion, as if trying 
to make friends. 

“ He ’s going to board and lodge with us,” 
her father added. 

“ Oh, is he? ” asked Bridget in surprise. 

“ He ’ll sleep in Tim’s bed,” explained 
McCook. 

“ If Miss McCook is willing,” put in 
Volger. 

Bridget said nothing, but served the meal, 
and her father, who watched her carefully, 
imagined that she was thinking. At the end 
of the meal Volger, carefully polite, asked 
Bridget if she objected to his smoking. 

“ No,” said Bridget. Then she asked 


The New Workman 


87 


abruptly, “ How much are you going to pay 
a week? ” 

He was taken by surprise, and answered 
truthfully, “ Four dollars.” 

“ And cheap enough,” she said. Then she 
turned to her father. “ Every week he pays 
half of the money to me.” 

“ Oh,” said McCook, staring at her, “ for 
the marketing? ” 

“No,” Bridget answered firmly; “for my 
own use.” 

McCook tried to stare her down, but failed, 
for neither his eyes nor Rip’s could ever meet 
another person’s long. He saw that she meant 
it, and that there would be trouble if she did 
not get it. Rapid calculation showed him that 
he had better yield. 

“ Oh, if you want it,” he said. 

“ I do want it,” Bridget replied. “ I want 
it paid to me, and not to you. — And every 
week,” she added as she left the room. 

McCook sat thinking uncomfortably of his 
daughter’s sudden development of character. 


88 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


He had never given her money regularly, and 
had never given much. Now, at a stroke, she 
had wrested from him a comfortable allowance. 
It looked as if he might have trouble in the 
future. 

And Volger, as he lit his pipe, chuckled to 
himself. “ Our friend is in danger of a strike,” 
he thought. 

Volger was the latest comer at the mill. 
That Monday morning he had presented him- 
self at Mr. Dodd’s office, asking for work; 
and Mr. Dodd, being short of weavers, turned 
him over to the foreman, who tried him, found 
that he could run eight looms, and engaged 
him. At dinner that night, however, Mr. 
Dodd suddenly turned to his youngest son. 

“ Was the man who struck you the other 
day dressed like a tramp ? ” 

“ More like a workman, sir,” answered 
Pelham. “ His clothes were n’t ragged.” 

“ Did he have a scar on his face? ” 

“ I did n’t see any,” replied Pelham. 

“ I wonder,” said Mr. Dodd, turning to his 


The New Workman 


89 


eldest son, “ if that man is the one we took 
on at the mill to-day? ” 

Bob shook his head. “ Pelly ’s man was 
bearded, sir.” 

“ Bearded,” agreed Pelly, decidedly. 

“ All right,” said Mr. Dodd, and dismissed 
the subject. 

“ But you have a new man at the mill? ” 
Pelly asked. 

“Yes,” his brother answered. “ Come down 
and see us sometime, now that you can’t run 
about.” 

“ I will,” Pelham promised. 

Pelham did not go at once, for his days 
were full of interest since he contrived to 
make his crutches a distinction. That he was 
no longer like other boys was not to be de- 
nied; therefore he claimed privileges from his 
mother and the cook, in the shape of more 
sweets at table, or extra cookies between meals. 
Among the boys he lent his crutches as favors, 
or even rented them for apples or candy; and 
while thus taking toll he criticised all per- 


90 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


formers, claiming that he was the sole ex- 
perienced, professional crutch-hobbler in the 
village. When he consented to umpire at ball- 
games he was very lofty in his manner and 
short with his critics, all of which affectation 
the older lads took in good part, and snubbed 
him only occasionally, knowing that he was 
but “ putting it on,” and that he really needed 
something to amuse him. 

And Pelham, though very much of a pet, 
was not spoiled, but was saved from that most 
miserable of fates by his own natural earnest- 
ness and straightforwardness. He was spirited, 
lively, and quite unwilling to receive help from 
anyone in games or contests, preferring to be 
beaten if he could not win by himself, and ask- 
ing no allowances on account of his size. He 
was forgiving after a quarrel, manly in taking 
a hurt, and always tried to play fair. 

Pelham lived in a town so small that every 
one knew everybody, where all were judged 
for themselves, and where each made his place 
by his own merits. The boys all went to school 


The New Workman 


91 


together, and played together, for their homes 
were so close that they could easily gather. 
The one really good ball-field was on Mr. 
Dodd’s land, and there Arthur Dodd and Pel- 
ham his brother played with Duck Lanigan 
and Hop Cudahy, whose fathers worked in 
the Dodd mills; and all the differences that 
the boys knew between them was that Arthur 
was the fastest runner, and Duck the best 
pitcher, and Pelham the quickest of all, and 
Hop the j oiliest. 

In this crowd of boys, then, Pelham was 
recognized as the “ spryest,” the most deter- 
mined, and the most independent. Plis inde- 
pendence was a valuable quality, making him 
think little of the praises which he won. And 
it helped him now that he was disabled, by 
keeping him satisfied to be by himself ; for 
when the boys went where he could not follow, 
or when he grew tired of watching sports 
which he could not share, then he would go 
away alone. And most he liked, when thus 
thrown upon himself, to go to his father’s 


92 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


mill, where his brother Bob worked, where 
Arthur would work, and where Pelham him- 
self meant to work also. 

He liked the great rumbling, trembling 
buildings, and knew their every part. There 
was the office where his father sat at his desk, 
and where Bob went in and out with duties 
and reports. There w^as the mill-race that 
turned the great wheel, the boilers which drove 
the engines. He liked the various rooms, — 
the dyeing-room, the cutting-room, the ship- 
ping-room; but most he was fascinated by 
the looms, which were all together in one 
great room, where men worked amid running 
belts, clashing machines, and the noiseless 
whirling of great wheels and arms of steel. 
He liked to wander among the looms, for he 
knew each of them, knew the men, and would 
stand for minutes at a time, watching the 
wonderful actions of the complicated ma- 
chines, which almost seemed to think, so per- 
fect was their work. 

The boys were always welcome at the mill, 


The New Workman 


93 


for Mr. Dodd wished to have not only his 
sons interested in the work, but the other lads 
also; and he tried to make them feel that here 
was open to them a place to earn their livings 
when they were older. So the Irish boys had 
in the mills almost the same interest as Pelham, 
for their fathers worked there, and the boys 
went in sometimes to say “ PIullo,” and to 
hang about loom or cutting-bench and watch 
the work which they intended to do later them- 
selves. Every process in the making of cor- 
duroy, from spinning the thread to pressing 
the dyed and finished piece, was known to the 
boys, most of whom had already decided which 
department they liked best, and were already, 
in thought, spinners, weavers, cutters, or dyers. 
And so there was among the boys a strong 
feeling both of rivalry and of unity, for they 
expected to work side by side, and each boy 
intended to become the most skilful workman 
in the mill. 

Mr. Dodd encouraged this feeling, yet with 
a fear that it might not last, a dread lest the 


94 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


little paradise be entered by the serpent. In 
fact, he was now beginning to wonder if the 
misfortune had not come at last. 

‘‘What makes you look so blue, father?” 
asked Bob, when for the third time one day 
he noticed his father sitting very thoughtful. 
“ Anything wrong? ” 

“ I ’m troubled,” said his father. “ But it 
had to come some day, I suppose. You know 
Yolger, the new workman? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“You have noticed what a talker he is? ” 

“ Why, yes, sir. The men listen to him a 
great deal at the noon hour, and some of them 
don’t go home to lunch any more, but bring 
their food here, so as to be with him.” 

“I’m afraid he will bring in new ideas, 
Bob.” 

“ What kind of ideas, sir? ” 

“ Labor-unionism.” 

“Well,” said Bob, heartily, “if he does 
form a union here, where’s the harm?” 

“ None, if they are temperate. But new 


The New Workman 


95 


ideas are upsetting, and the men may go too 
far. I ’ve watched Volger as he talks, and 
he is very vehement. He ’ll make the men 
discontented.” 

“ Discontented? ” cried Bob. “ There is n’t 
a set of men in the state that ’s better paid, or 
better treated either.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Dodd, “and I depend on 
them to remember it. But if they became dis- 
contented, think what would happen.” 

He left his desk and went to the window. 
“What a peaceful town we have here!” he 
said, looking out upon the fields and houses. 
“ What good feeling we have! There ’s more 
neighborliness here, between employers and 
employed, than in any other mill-village 
that I know. There ’s not the trace of 
an idea that my sons are better than the 
workmen’s sons. Look over there, where 
the boys are playing ball, — nothing could 
be friendlier. But if new ideas should 
upset the men’s minds, all the neighborliness 
might be lost, the friendships broken, and 


96 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


we could scarcely get back to the old footing 
again.” 

Bob walked once up and down the office. 
“You are right,” he said when he paused. 
“ It would be a real misfortune. I ’m sorry 
we ever took in a workman we did n’t know 
all about. But we can discharge him.” 

Mr. Dodd shook his head. “We have no 
good reason. The man is a good worker. But 
if I could find any good cause for sending 
him away, I would do it instantly.” 


CHAPTER IX 


PELHAM IS TOO GENEROUS 

I T was on that afternoon that Pelham went 
to the mill, for the reason that the other 
boys left their baseball to go fishing. 
Pelham had sent Tim with them. “ You 
ought to go,” said Pelham. “ Mr. Waters 
would like you to bring him some fish.” So 
the two cronies parted, Tim to get fish for 
his benefactor, and Pelham to go upon his 
crutches to the mill, where he wandered about 
among his friends, the workmen, until he came 
to the looms, which he watched with the usual 
fascination. 

Then he remembered that there was a 
new man there whom he had not yet seen. 
He asked Cudahy about him, — Pat Cud- 
ahy the weaver. “ Is the new man a good 
fellow? ” 


7 


98 


Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ That he is,” said Cudahy, heartily. “ A 
great talker he is.” 

“ What does he talk about? ” asked Pelham. 

Cudahy hesitated, and seemed embarrassed, 
but the workman who stood back to back with 
him turned to answer. It was Rip McCook, 
who managed but four looms, while Johnny 
Bragin, beside him, worked four others, the 
two doing between them the work of one 
good workman. “ He talks about the rights 
of workingmen,” said Rip, “ and the way to 
better ourselves.” 

Rip’s tone was defiant, and Pelham turned 
with little prickles of antagonism running up 
his neck into his hair. There always was a 
hopeless disagreement between the two. 

“Better yourselves?” asked Pelham, 
shrewdly. “Aren’t you satisfied, Rip?” 

“Sure I’m not!” answered Rip, loudly. 
“ I ’ve not got half my rights yet.” 

Other workmen turned to look, and Johnny 
Bragin stared. Pelham smiled innocentty. 

“ Father will give you four more looms 


Pelham is too Generous 


99 


just as soon as you are able to run them,” 
he said. 

McCook glared, uncertain whether Pelham 
had intended to give so sharp a thrust. But 
Cudahy burst out laughing, and Johnny 
Bragin followed. “ That ’ll do for you, 
Rip,” said Cudahy. “ Don’t you say another 
word to-day.” Rip’s glare did not daunt 
Cudahy, but when it fell upon Johnny Bragin 
he bit his laugh suddenly in two, and choked 
back the rest. 

“ Go along with you, Master Pelham,” said 
Cudahy, “ and see the new man yourself, 
lie ’s over behind the big loom in the corner.” 
And Pelham, keeping his face sober, walked 
away. He knew he had added one more to 
the causes why Rip should dislike him, but 
with native recklessness he did not care. 

As he walked he exchanged remarks with 
the men that he passed. They liked him be- 
cause he liked them; they were a company 
of friends. Many a man wagged his head 
behind Pelham’s back, and remarked to his 


1. OF C, 


100 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


neighbor, “That’s the boy for me!” They 
would do anything for him. Pelham reached 
the looms where the new man worked, and 
walked around them until in the corner he 
found him. Volger had stopped a loom to 
tie a broken thread, and turned to look at 
Pelham. Then he started. 

“ Oh! ” cried the boy, and started too. 

It was not for Volger’s start, nor was it 
for anything really definite that Pelham rec- 
ognized the man. The beard was gone, the 
scar showed clearly, the clothes were different, 
and yet this was the man who had struck him 
on the day of the paper-chase. 

“ So it ’s you after all,” said Pelham. 

Volger came forward quickly, spoke eagerly 
and in a low voice, and used his hands to make 
gestures. “ I have an apology for you,” he 
said, rapidly, anxious not to be overheard. 
“ I ’m sorry I — did that, the other day.” 

“ I don’t see why you did it,” answered 
downright Pelly. 

“Why,” said Volger, hesitating, “you see 


Pelham is too Generous 


101 


— there were some clippings among those 
papers you tore up. I wanted them.” 

“ Striking me would n’t bring them back,” 
the boy answered. 

“Yes, but — ” Volger answered, “I — I 
lost my head, I guess.” 

“ I guess you did,” the boy agreed, with 
perfect coolness. It was not in his code to 
strike a smaller boy except to administer just 
and deliberate punishment, and justice and 
deliberation were the last words to apply to 
Volger’s action. 

“ And,” said Volger, shifting his ground, 
“ if you tell on me I ’ll probably be dis- 
charged.” Pelly nodded. “ And you don’t 
know what it is to be out of work.” 

The man irritated Pelham. His eye was 
not honest, his voice was too soft. The boy 
knew that a word from him would cost the 
man his place; Volger would even have to 
leave town if the workmen knew that he was 
the one who struck Pelham. He hesitated. 

“ Please don’t tell,” begged Volger. 


102 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


The lad felt a genuine contempt for one 
who, having committed a fault, would ask to 
have it concealed. “ Oh,” he said, turning 
away, “ if you are n’t willing to tell what you 
did, I won’t tell upon you.” 


CHAPTER X 


NEW IDEAS 

T IM now lived with Waters. On the 
morning after his escape from 
McCook’s shed window Tim had 
been taken by Waters before Mr. Dodd, who 
had legally given him into the dyer’s hands, 
to care for under the supervision of Mr. 
Dodd himself. Waters had then taken Tim 
home, and for the first time led him upstairs. 

Beside Waters’ bedroom was a smaller room, 
in which also there was a bed. “ There,” said 
Waters, “ that ’s your room and bed. I ’ve 
had a bed there for eleven years, ever since 
I came to town, with the idea that some day 
a boy like you would occupy it. You ’re the 
age to a week of the son I lost, and I always 
meant to take a lad in his place, but I never 
did. I couldn’t take a baby, or a child; but 


104 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


you, at his age, are able to look after your- 
self, and help me, so I think we ’ll get along 
together. What do you think? ” 

“ I think we shall,” said Tim, his eyes 
shining. 

“We ’ll get along like a pair of clever 
bachelors,” said Waters. “ I ’ll do the cook- 
ing; you can sweep. I ’ll chop the wood ; you 
make the beds. That is, you see, I ’ll do the 
heavy work, and you the light, and we can 
hit it off first-rate. Think so? ” 

“ I ’ll try to pay you for my keep,” an- 
swered Tim, earnestly. 

“ None of that! ” said Waters, quickly, and 
speaking, as he did when moved or interested, 
with more of his dialect, which at times dis- 
appeared entirely. “ None of that, I tell ’ee. 
Do ’ee understand now, boy, this is a bargain 
between us, and I get as much as I give. I 
give my house, thee thy company, and we both 
put in all our good will. On that footing 
there will be naught too much on either side, 
and no gratitude, neither, so be it we can only 


New Ideas 


105 


take it out in love. And I start thee fresh in 
life with new clothes, and ten cents a week 
regularly to thy pocket money.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Waters! ” cried Tim, clasping the 
big brown hand. 

“ Call me guardian, lad,” said the dyer, 
kindly, and in his eyes there was a glimmer 
of tears. “ I ’ll never have a boy call me 
father, but call me guardian, and that will be 
next best.” 

“ Guardian, then,” said Tim, his own eyes 
moist at the thought that he was really loved. 
“ My own guardian, and oh, I wish you were 
my father!” 

“ I too, lad,” agreed Waters. “ And now, 
thou hast no name, if that scrawny ruffian is- 
to be believed. Choose thee a name to be 
known by, if it be only John Smith.” 

“ I have neither name nor birthday either,” 
said Tim, wistfully, “ but if you ’re willing 
I ’ll be called Tim W aters, guardian.” 

“ Tim for the son that Mrs. McCook lost,” 
mused the dyer, “ and Waters for my own 


106 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


boy. That ’s a good combination, lad, and 
no one can say aught against it. And so it 
shall be.” 

Therefore, when “ Tim McCook ” was next 
spoken of among the boys, Tim told them that 
he was now Tim W aters, if they would please 
call him so. And he was outwardly so dif- 
ferent, being no longer ragged nor patched, 
that the change came easily to his mates. Tim 
Waters he was from that time on, — a boy 
who had nothing more to fear on going home 
at night or on waking in the morning. No 
orders, no cuffs, no threats, overshadowed his 
thoughts; and he was a happy boy. Waters 
had a kindly way of telling him what to do, 
of correcting his faults, and giving him in- 
formation; in fact, their whole intercourse was 
so pleasant that sometimes it seemed to the 
boy as if it were too good to last. But he did 
all he could to pay W aters, — since it never 
occurred to Tim that the deep, silent satisfac- 
tion of the man could be anything like his 
own joy. He did not know how Waters 


New Ideas 


107 


watched him, how the man thrilled with the 
boy’s affection, and trembled lest anything 
should happen to him; how each night, while 
Tim slept, his guardian stood over him in 
prayer for his welfare. Tim’s unthinking 
happiness was great, but the man’s fervent 
thankfulness for this gift from heaven was 
unmeasurable. 

“ Is there anything you lack? ” he asked 
Tim once, and urged him to tell when he saw 
that the boy hesitated. 

“ Biddy,” acknowledged Tim. “ I worry 
how she ’s getting along. F ath — McCook 
has only her to work off his tempers on.” 

“ Go and see her when we ’re at the mill,” 
advised Waters. “ It ’s you she ’ll be missing 
more than she minds her father’s tempers, I ’m 
thinking.” 

So that day, when the men were at work, 
Tim went to McCook’s house, and found 
Biddy at her sweeping. She was delighted 
to see him, and he knew that she was touched 
by his remembrance. 


108 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ How much better you look,” she said, after 
their first greeting. 

“ And you,” he replied, looking at her 
clothes. “You have a new dress.” 

“ Yes,” she answered with satisfaction. 
“I’m on wages now, — but no thanks to 
father.” 

“ Oh, I ’m sorry! ” he cried. “ No, no, I ’m 
glad if you have money, but I brought you 
some I earned picking berries.” 

“ Does n’t Mr. Waters take that?” she asked. 

“ He? ” cried Tim in scorn. “ He gives me 
ten cents a week, and there ’s few of the boys 
get that. He says it ’s to teach me to use 
money.” 

“ Then use your earnings yourself,” she said 
kindly, kissing him. “ I ’ve fought my way 
clear at last, I ’m glad to say, and father will 
not lay his hand on me again.” And she told 
him the history of it. 

“ How do you like Volger for a boarder? ” 
asked Tim. 

“ Well enough,” she answered. “ Only he 


New Ideas 


109 


talks too much, and the men come here to hear 
him, and litter the room, so that it ’s harder 
than ever to keep it clean.” 

“ What does he talk about? ” asked Tim, as 
Pelham had done before him. 

“ Oh, he wants a union, and he talks of 
strikes.” 

“Strikes?” cried Tim. “Strikes, Biddy! 
What for?” 

“ For excitement, I guess,” she answered 
shrewdly. 

Tim was not content with the answer. The 
very name of a strike was a shock to him, and 
his interest in Volger, as a possible mischief- 
maker, was much increased. He looked at 
him curiously whenever they met, and had 
peculiar occasion to notice Volger ’s scar on 
a day when in the street Tim and Waters sud- 
denly came face to face with Volger and the 
McCooks. 

The weaver had been looking back, and 
turned to see Waters suddenly near him. 
Volger’s face flushed red, and the scar that 


110 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


ran from ear to chin stood out white. He 
stopped still, as if in surprise, and waited for 
Waters to look at him. 

Waters had been looking at the McCooks. 
The father dropped his eyes and walked on, 
but for a moment Rip met Waters’ glance 
before he, too, looked away and passed on. 
Waters, triumphant, cast a look at the 
McCooks’ companion. Tim expected Volger 
to speak. 

But to the lad’s surprise Volger had recov- 
ered himself. His face was still red, and the 
scar showed plainly, but he remained silent, 
looked at the ground, waited for Waters to 
pass, and then followed the McCooks. 

“ That man’s name is Waterman? ” he asked 
of them. 

“ Waters,” they answered. “ Do you know 
him?” 

“ Never saw him before,” said Volger. 

“ Then how ’d you make such a good guess?” 
growled Rip. Volger answered hastily, “ Oh, 
I don’t know.” He left the subject then, but 


New Ideas 


111 


that night he brought the talk to Waters, and 
learned all that the McCooks knew of him: 
when he came to the town, his history, and 
how he lived. “ And you don’t like him? ” 
he asked at the end. 

“Like him?” they cried together. “We 
hate him ! ” 

Tim, going along at Waters’ side, had said: 
“ Mr. Volger seemed to know you.” 

“Did he?” asked Waters. “I was just 
thinking that his face was in a way familiar. 
Volger was his name, you said? I never knew 
a man of that name. No, nor I never saw a 
man with such a scar. He ’s from the city? ” 
he asked the boy. 

“ From New York,” answered Tim. 

“ Then keep away from him,” directed 
Waters. “ I dislike city men.” 

Tim followed his guardian’s direction, but 
yet he was curious to see what Volger would 
do the next time he met Waters. At first it 
seemed as if Volger was avoiding the dyer, 
but after a while, in much the same circum- 


112 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


stances, they met again. Waters walked along 
steadily, looking straight ahead of him, quite 
unconscious of the other’s presence; but Volger 
turned his face away, while again the scar 
showed clearer than before. Tim wondered if 
he were afraid to be recognized. 

Following up another subject of interest, 
Tim spoke to his guardian one day at noon. 
“Why should we need a union here?” he 
asked. 

“ For little good in a place like this,” an- 
swered Waters. “We have few grievances.” 

Grievances! It was the first time Tim ever 
heard the word so used, in the sense of a 
workman’s complaints against the conditions 
of his life. But he was to hear it often 
enough in the future. 

“ It ’s like a nation with a big army or 
navy,” went on Waters, “this having of 
unions is. All very well when the fellows 
across the frontier are waiting for a chance 
to hurt you, for then you are able to defend 
yourself. But workmen with a union are 


New Ideas 


113 


seldom happy till they find a grievance, just 
as a nation that ’s looking for trouble is always 
sure to get it. Ah, my boy, I Ve been in the 
big factories, and I Ve seen strikes, — aye, 
and suffered at them too, when with no fault 
of my own, willing and ready to work, I had 
to go home each night with nothing to give 
my wife, and our savings wasting away day 
by day. Give a boy a gun and he ’ll want to 
kill something, and put a union in the hands 
of men with no sense, and they ’ll turn the 
whole village upside down.” 

“ Then why do men want unions anyway? ” 
asked Tim. 

“ Unions are valuable when the employers 
are grinding you down,” explained Waters. 
“ Too much work and too little pay, or when 
the men’s health is in danger, or something 
of that sort. Oh, unions have done immense 
good, there ’s no denying that, and I Ve no 
wish to deny it. But there ’s never been a 
single thing that the men could ask for here, 

but came without the asking. Mr. Dodd’s 

8 


114 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


fair, and his men don’t have to threaten him 
to get their rights.” 

“ But are we sure to have trouble if we get 
a union? ” 

“ No, I ’m glad to say. If the men that 
want trouble only take it out in quarrelling 
among themselves, then they ’ll leave the rest 
of us in peace. And there ’s no use in borrow- 
ing trouble now. — Ah, Tim, we ’ll have a fine 
time together, thee and I, when Mr. Dodd 
takes ’ee into the dyeing-room, and I begin 
to train ’ee for my place.” 

Tim was always glad when his guardian 
called him 4 4 thee,” and glad also when they 
spoke of the work. He was ambitious to learn 
the art of dyeing, — an art which Waters loved 
with such a love as inspires a painter or a 
sculptor. In his solitary life it had become 
his great passion, which kept him happy when 
a weaker man would have broken down from 
loneliness. 

44 How can a man become a dyer?” asked 
Tim. 


New Ideas 


115 


“ Ah,” explained Waters, “’tis partly knowl- 
edge and partly nature, and to my thinking 
it ’s more nature than knowledge. There ’s no 
taking any man from the looms or the cutting- 
room and making him a dyer, — a dyer that 
is a dyer, you know. No, nor will your col- 
lege man with all his books equal the man that 
has the instinct in him. Yellow and blue make 
green, but just how much yellow and how much 
blue will make the green you want, — not all 
the books can tell you that, nor will experi- 
ence either, unless a man ’s got the sense in 
him.” 

Waters was a firm believer in the dyer’s 
sense , — a sixth faculty, or an instinct, which 
he claimed was in only a few men. Mr. Dodd 
believed in it, he said; at any rate, Mr. Dodd 
believed in Waters, for through his hands 
passed every bolt of cloth which the mill 
turned out, or every bolt but a very few, 
and Waters could therefore either make or 
mar the whole year’s work. The quiet, gray- 
haired workman was absolute master in the 


116 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


dye-room, and he was the best paid of all the 
workmen. It was the sense that did it, he 
would explain. 

“Nate has the sense, hasn’t he?” asked 
Tim. 

Waters stiffened where he sat. “Nate?” 
he cried. “A fellow with two wash-tubs and 
a clothes-wringer, that dyes seven or eight 
dozen bolts in a year! Did you know that 
last year I dyed eighteen thousand? ” 

“ But Nate’s bolts get the largest price, 
don’t they? ” Tim asked. 

Waters threw him a glance of reproach. 
“ Perhaps they do,” he said coldly. “ I don’t 
have the selling of them.” 

“ Oh,” cried Tim, “ forgive me, forgive me, 
guardian! I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He 
pressed up to Waters’ side, and caught his 
great hand. 

“ All right, all right,” said the dyer. “There, 
I ’ll agree that Nate ’s a man of very respect- 
able abilities, and could do a good deal with 
himself if he ’d only stop living like a man of 


New Ideas 


117 


the woods, and study with me for a while. But 
if you speak of the price of goods, just re- 
member that the Dodd mills corduroy gets the 
very best in the market, and people have been 
known to say that Mr. Dodd has two of the 
best dyers in the whole trade, be it in America 
or in England.” He held his head high for 
a moment, then turned to the lad to ask, “But 
you don’t go to Nate’s often, I hope.” 

“ Oh, guardian,” cried Tim, fearing to be 
forbidden, “ we boys just love to go there, 
and I pick all my berries on his land.” 

“ Well, then,” said Waters, generously, “ go 
there when thee wilt, but if ’ee think of his 
dyeing, remember the man ’s not regular, like 
me. It ’s all mess and guess with him, and 
he gets his colors more by luck than anything 
else.” 

Tim thought shrewdty of the sense which 
Waters had been exalting but a moment be- 
fore, and which he now abandoned on the 
mention of Nate; the boy got a glimpse of 
the professional feeling to which even the best 


118 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


of men are sometimes subject, and wondered if 
Waters could be jealous of Nate. But the 
dyer showed that he was not. 

“ There,” he said, “ I must be going to my 
work. Do ’ee go where thou wilt, even to 
Nate’s, and have a good time in thy own 
way.” 


CHAPTER XI 


NATE 

C URIOUSLY, it was to Nate’s that the 
boys went that very afternoon. Ex- 
cept on that day when he went fishing, 
Tim had not left Pelly to go with the other 
boys, but Pelham’s ankle now was well. Sum- 
mer was at its prime; it was a day too hot for 
baseball, but as the boys lolled in the shade of 
the woods that bordered the ball-field, they 
decided that they must do something. But 
what? Plare-and-hounds was impossible on 
such a sultry day, and even the idea of swim- 
ming was not tempting, for the long walk 
back from the pond would make the boys as 
hot as before, as they had learned by hard 
experience. Tim, remembering his talk with 
Waters, thought of Nate, but did not men- 
tion him. Pelly did, however. 


120 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Let ’s go to Nate’s! ” he shouted, and the 
rest agreed at once. 

Deeper into the woods they trooped, and 
walked along the shaded ways, delighting in 
the little airs that stirred there, and the ber- 
ries that grew. They climbed above the town, 
and from little clearings saw the roofs below; 
at last they came to what had once been a 
farm amid the trees, but where now the sap- 
lings were trespassing on the fallow land, and 
where no crops were sown. There the black- 
berries grew thick, the blueberries were ripen- 
ing, and sumach and briars rioted. 

“Not many berries just here,” grumbled 
Duck Lanigan. “ I bet Nate picked a bushel 
off this place before the dew was gone.” 

“ He did,” said Tim. “ I saw him leaving 
the market this morning, folding up a dollar 

fill.” 

“ But he must be here,” said Arthur. “Let ’s 
shout for him.” They shouted all together, 
but no answer came. 

“ There ’s no knowing where he is,” said 


Nate 


121 


Arthur, “ and there ’s twenty acres to hunt for 
him on. Boys, let ’s guess for the likeliest 
place.” 

“ He ’s at the cave! ” cried Lawrence. 

44 He ’s at the spring! ” asserted Duck. 

“ The sugar-house ! ” guessed Arthur. 

44 He ’s at the farmhouse,” stated Pelly, 
with such certainty that the hoys all stopped 
to consider. 

“ What should he be doing there? ” de- 
manded Hop Cudahy. 4 4 He works there, but 
he picked berries this morning, and he never 
works twice in a day.” 

That was a jest on Nate’s known idleness 
which made the boys laugh, but Pelham stuck 
to his point. 44 1 know better,” he said. 
44 Maybe he ’s dyeing, and anyway, he ’s read- 
ing the book I lent him this morning.” That 
struck the boys at once, for next to doing 
nothing, Nate loved reading. 

44 It was the 4 Boy’s King Arthur,’ my old 
copy,” Pelham said, and clinched his argu- 
ment, all but for the locality. 


122 Pelham and His Friend Tim 

“ He ’ll be reading, then,” Lawrence said. 
“ But I think he ’s at the cave.” 

“The cave!” shouted most of the others, 
and for the cave they started in a body, cau- 
tiously, for they meant to surprise him at his 
book. Up along the hillside, through the rank 
growths, and then again into the woods they 
went, until within a clump of ever-shady pines 
they closed in upon their goal. Two great 
twin-boulders were reared side by side, until 
their tops met, and from that cleft a large 
pine rose, sending its long roots down into 
the ground. The boys crept, and skulked, and 
peered around the giant stones, until they saw 
the black mouth of the cave, but at its cool 
opening there lolled no lazy human form. 
Mistaken! They came out from their coverts 
and consulted together. 

The sugar-house was their next decision, 
and turning abruptly downhill, but away from 
their former path, they streamed through the 
woods once more. The pines gave way to a 
grove of great sugar-maples, which the In- 


Nate 


123 


dians might have tapped before the white men 
came, and from which Nate now, each spring, 
drew the sap to make the best sugar (so the 
town claimed) which was ever made in Ver- 
mont, let alone Massachusetts. But at the 
sugar-house, with its brick chimney and great 
skimming-pans, there was no Nate. And at 
the spring, where bubbled forth his never- fail- 
ing supply of pure water, there was no one to 
surprise. 

“ Well,” demanded Pelly, “ will you try the 
house now? ” 

There was nothing else to do. Downhill 
they went again until they saw a group of 
dilapidated buildings: a barn with gaping 
roof, a bulging woodshed, and a house whose 
patches of fresh shingles upon roof and 
sides alone gave proof of recent occupation. 
Around the house bloomed the flowers of an 
ancient garden, unpicked but not untended, 
for no weeds grew among them. 

The house was low, having but a story and 
a half; away from it at the rear ran a shed, 


124 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


upon the windows of which the boys fixed their 
eyes. The windows were big, and low, and 
open; with one idea most of the boys scat- 
tered and began to creep toward them with 
the stealth of Indians, using the cover which 
the plants and shrubs afforded. From time 
to time they craned their necks to discover if 
Nate were in the shed. 

But Pelly made one dash across the open, 
scuttling from clump to clump but not paus- 
ing at any, until reaching a great lilac he 
stopped behind it, and looked into the shed. 
There, sitting upon an upturned basket, among 
odd machines, was a long, lank man, intent 
upon a book. His clothes were patched, his 
brown hair was long and bleached, his hands 
and neck were thin and deeply tanned. With 
one hand Nate was turning a crank, by which 
means a machine was passing into a tub a long 
roll of dark fabric, raising it out again, and 
rolling it up once more. But Nate’s eyes were 
upon his book, which he held in his other hand. 
As the boys stole nearer in response to Pelly’s 


Nate 


125 


excited signal, Nate raised his head and 
showed his face, like the rest of him, long, 
thin and brown. He sighed with interest as 
he turned a page, and then went on with his 
reading. 

The boys closed in, making ready for a 
rush and shout when Pelly should give the 
signal. Nearer and nearer they drew; Pel- 
ham looked and saw that they were all ready, 
and took breath for the shout. 

Then Nate, rolling his eyes up from his 
book, and addressing — apparently — a large 
wasps’ nest that decorated one of the windows, 
said placidly, “ Come in, boys ! ” 

They trooped in, disgusted, and stood be- 
fore him. “ How did you know we were 
there? ” Pelly demanded. 

“ To tell the truth,” answered Nate, “ I 
didn’t know you were there, Pelly; you kept 
so quiet. But there ’s no mistaking Curly’s 
snicker nor Hop’s giggle, nor even Duck’s 
snort, so I surmised somebody was about.” I 
He spoke solemnly, but there was a twinkle 


126 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


in his eye of the genuine Yankee kind, and 
he ended with a wink. Nate was a character 
of the Squibob type, and the boys loved his 
drollery. 

“ Nate,” said Duck, “ if you don’t say you 
did n’t know I was there, I ’ll push you into 
your own tub of dye.” 

Arthur was more peaceful, though more 
sarcastic. “ How comes it,” he asked, “ that 
you are working twice on the same day? ” 
Nate, who had not for a moment ceased his 
turning, looked at his tub. “ Had the stuff all 
made up,” he said with a pride which he could 
not conceal. “ Best in a long time. What do 
you think of it, boys? ” 

As he spoke, the last of the roll of corduroy 
passed into the tub and presently came up 
again. Nate stood up and laid aside his book, 
released the roll and put it upon another 
machine, and began to pass the cloth through 
a trough of clear and running water. The 
boys crowded closer, and Arthur bent over 
the cloth. 


Nate 


127 


“ Father’s best,” he said, after looking at it. 

“ Your pa don’t give me anything but his 
best,” Nate said. It was indeed a fine-ribbed 
corduroy, although only an expert — such as 
the smallest of the boys was fitting himself to 
be — could tell from its present draggled 
state what it would be in the end. Nate had 
been dyeing, and now was rinsing it. The 
boys, changed from friends into students and 
keen critics, by turns looked narrowly at the 
cloth. 

“Dress goods?” asked Hop Cudahy. 

“ Of course! ” answered three of his cronies 
together. “ You don’t suppose Mr. Dodd 
would give Nate anything else, do you?” 
Hop apologized hastily, and with the others 
praised Nate’s work. His eye twinkled the 
brighter. 

“ But which of you can tell me the color? ” 
he asked. 

“ It ’s brown,” said Lawrence, after exam- 
ining carefully. Nate shook his head. 

“ Guess again,” he said. 


128 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Blue,” said Duck, and Nate laughed out- 
right. “ Tan,” hazarded Biff Spots. “ Vio- 
let,” guessed one. “ Indigo,” ventured an- 
other, but still Nate shook his head. 

“ Kinder generally near it, some of ye,” he 
said, “ but ye have n’t hit the trade-name of 
it yet. I guess Mr. Dodd’s sons will know, 
however. Do you, Arthur? ” 

“ I know,” said Arthur, confidently. 

“ I don’t feel sure,” acknowledged Pelham. 

“ Well, you ’re pretty young,” said Nate. 
“ But you,” and he turned upon Tim, “ you ’ve 
been living with the master-dyer, and ought 
to know, for all you ’re so small. Tell us what 
it is.” 

His tone was kindly, in spite of his laugh- 
ing words, and Tim, after looking once more 
at the corduroy, looked up at Nate to gain 
confidence for an opinion. And Nate gave 
him confidence. Upon his long and somewhat 
comic face there came at times the melancholy 
look of a dreamer, such as Pelham had seen 
there when Nate first looked up from his 


Nate 


129 


book. This look, so far from joking, Tim 
saw now in Nate’s eyes, and he recognized in 
him Waters’ own devotion to an art. Nate 
was odd, he did not care to live much with 
people, he was as cranky over his hobbies as 
ever Yankee was, — and that is saying a great 
deal, — but he understood boys, he loved them, 
and was not afraid to show them, now and 
then, how deep his heart was set upon his 
passions, knowing that the lads could not be 
harmed by the things that he loved best. 
Nate was fondest of his dyeing and his out- 
door life, and once Mr. Dodd had said, when 
his sister complained that his sons went too 
much to Nate’s: “You say they will learn 
all his tastes? I couldn’t ask anything 
better ! ” 

So Tim, seeing in Nate’s eyes the serious 
love of his art, took confidence to speak his 
opinion. “ It does n’t look much like it now, 
I know,” he said, “ but still I think that it 
will be plum-color.” 

“ Plum-color? ” cried incredulous Curly, and 

9 


130 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


some of the boys laughed. But Arthur said 
“ Plum-color ” positively, and Nate, clapping 
Tim on the shoulder, cried: 

“ Don’t you know that plum-color will be 
all the rage next winter? Boys,” and he 
pointed at the cloth, “ boys, this corduroy will 
be walking down Fifth Avenoo, Noo York, 
before Christmas. — No, it will be driving 
there, because only the richest will be able to 
buy it ! ” 

And the boys shouted with enthusiasm at 
the idea, for they knew Nate spoke the truth. 
The best American corduroys were made in 
their little town, and Nate’s supporters had 
reason to boast about him. Once a week he 
went to the mill, received a bolt of cloth, and 
took it to his house to dye by means which 
he alone understood. Wonderful colors were 
made in the dye-room at the mill, strong and 
brilliant, or deep and solid, of all the standard 
shades. They were Waters’ work, and so well 
did he make them that he was known far and 
wide in the trade, and had been tempted to 


Nate 


131 


go elsewhere for larger wages. But Nate 
alone knew the secrets of the nuts and roots, 
leaves and bark, which he gathered in the 
woods, and which he mixed and steeped in his 
little house to make the subtle hues which never 
came from any other hands than his. 

“ How do you do it, Nate? ” he was often 
asked. 

“ Guesswork, guesswork,” he always an- 
swered. 

Doubtless it was partly guesswork, but it 
was knowledge also, and working in his irreg- 
ular fashion he produced shades of color which 
Waters with all his steadiness could never equal. 
No one could take Nate’s place; the reputa- 
ton of the mill depended partly upon him ; and 
cloth which he had dyed, and marked with his 
special mark, sold at a double price in the city 
stores. 

But far from priding himself on this, just 
now he was pleased with Tim, and with Arthur, 
too. “ You ’ll do,” he cried, patting Arthur’s 
back. “ You ’re your father’s son. And you, 


132 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Tim, will be a dyer some day, if only you ’ll let 
me teach you.” 

Tim smiled up at him teasingly. “ Mr. 
Waters says that your dyes are so good 
partly on account of your water. He could 
do better if he had it.” 

“ Go along,” retorted Nate. “ Tell him his 
colors are so good because he gets in his water 
the rinsings of my dyes.” 

“ Mightily thinned out when they reach the 
other brooks,” said Tim, “ but strong enough 
to spoil his. ’T is n’t fair.” 

“ There,” said Nate, laughing, “ I won’t 
joke with you, for fear I ’ll get the worst 
of it. — But you other boys, you could n’t 
guess the color, could you?” 

“What were you reading?” asked Curly, 
anxious to change the subject. He succeeded, 
for Nate turned to his book with sudden 
interest. 

“ Say, Pelly,” he asked, “ do you mean that 
folks used to do as they do here? Fighting 
in that way, with spears and iron clothes ? ” 


Nate 


133 


“ Armor? ” asked Pelham. “ Certainly. ,, 

“I swan!” said Nate. He took the book 
and showed a picture in which a knight, on 
horseback, was bearing another on the end of 
his spear. “ ‘ How Sir Carados,’ ” he read, 
“ ‘ bare Sir Ector clean out of his saddle.’ 
It ’s funny language, and it ’s funny doin’s. 
Those chaps seemed to do nothin’ but ride 
about country, lookin’ for some one to fight.” 

“ That ’s about it,” said Arthur. 

“ Interestin’,” said Nate. “ I s’pose you 
boys would like to try that? ” He made the 
remark a question, and looked about the circle 
with his twinkling eyes. 

“ Oh, yes! ” they cried in chorus. 

“ I thought so,” said Nate. “ Then you 
boys like fightin’ just for its own sake? ” 
They made no answer, and he went on : “ It 
seems to be a law of nature, but I never saw 
how it should master Christian men.” 

“ It oughtn’t!” cried most of the boys, 
promptly. 

“ It seems to me,” philosophized Nate, “ that 


134 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


if those fellers hadn’t been so safe in those 
iron overcoats, and so anxious to try them 
against somebody else, there would n’t ha’ 
been half so much fightin’. A man would 
dress himself up in a cast-iron stove, and go 
out lookin’ for trouble, — and when a man’s 
lookin’ for trouble, just like a dog, he ’s likely 
to find it, or make it. Hey? ” 

They agreed with him, as he looked from 
one to the other. 

“ An’ right here in this quiet town,” Nate 
pursued, still looking in turn in the faces of 
the boys, “ if there was a set of men always 
armed, organized (he emphasized the word), 
an’ with a feelin’ of honor all stirred up and 
lookin’ for a grievance (again the emphasis) 
— why then we ’d have trouble here pretty 
soon. Ain’t that so? ” 

“ Why, Nate,” cried Arthur, “ what are you 
thinking of? Nothing of the sort could hap- 
pen here.” 

Lawrence and Pelham echoed his words, but 
on the faces of the workingmen’s sons ap- 


Nate 


135 


peared recognition of Nate’s meaning. Duck 
Lanigan, Curly, even Tim, hesitated to speak, 
and then looked away. 

“ Ah,” said Nate, shrewdly, “ so there is n’t 
any chance of that sort of thing here? Well, 
I ’m glad to know it.” He stooped over the 
trough, and began to regulate its flow of water. 
“You youngsters make yourselves to home 
about the place. I ’ve got to stay right here 
and finish up this job.” 

Some of the boys remained to watch him, 
others roamed about the house and examined 
his belongings, while still others wandered out 
of doors. Pelham, who with native quickness 
had caught the meaning of Nate’s words, drew 
Tim aside. ^ 

“ What did Nate mean about organization, 
and grievances, and trouble?” he demanded. 

“ Oh, Pelly,” said Tim, “ it ’s what the new 
workman, Volger, has been talking about. He 
wants a union; lots of the men want it al- 
ready. I heard some one say it will split the 
town from top to bottom.” 


136 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ It won’t split us! ” cried Pelham. “ Will 
it, Tim? ” 

“ Never,” Tim agreed, and there they de- 
clared to each other that, come what might, 
nothing that their elders might do should 
come between them. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE UNION 

4 LTHOUGH Pelham and Tim agreed 
/“A that no labor disputes should break 
their unity, they were destined both 
to influence and be influenced by the troubles 
that were to come. It was the very day after 
the visit to Nate that the two lads sat in Mr. 
Dodd’s office, busy in looking over the trade 
journals whose pictures and news-items in- 
terested these two as much as the tales which 
form the ordinary boy’s ordinary reading. 
For Pelham and Tim were little manufac- 
turers already, and knew the parts of the big 
machines as most boys know the parts of 
their bicycles. They had not loitered in the 
engine-room for nothing, they had not in vain 
spent hours among the looms, and while to 
them some of the matter in the trade journals 


138 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


was nothing but a jumble of words, it was 
surprising bow much the boys understood. 
On this morning the two had been seated so 
long and so quietly behind Mr. Dodd, in one 
chair, in the corner by the window, that he 
forgot all about them. So when three of the 
men came asking leave to speak with their 
employer, Mr. Dodd asked their errand with- 
out thought that there were, just behind him, 
two little pitchers with very big ears. 

The men were Volger, Patrick Cudahy, and 
Rip McCook. They said they had come “from 
the men.” 

“ Well,” asked Mr. Dodd, “ and what can 
I do for the men?” Though he spoke more 
quietly than usual, Pelham was instantly struck 
by his tone, recognizing from it that his father 
was intent and alert. He gave Tim a nudge, 
and from that time on the two kept peeping 
at the men over the top of the paper. 

Rip was about to speak in answer to Mr. 
Dodd, but Volger stopped him by a gesture, 
and turned to Cudahy, as if to ask him to 


The Union 


139 


speak. “ It ’s this way, sir,” said Cudahy, 
clearing his throat. “ Mr. Volger here, he ’s 
given us some new ideas about ourselves, — 
very good ideas, we think them.” He stopped 
to consider what he should say next. 

“ I am sure they are very good indeed,” 
said Mr. Dodd, to fill the pause. 

“ You bet,” said Rip, emphatically. 

“ Now,” went on Cudahy, not very much 
pleased at Rip’s assistance, “ there ’s talk of 
forming a union among the workmen. Some 
of us are not sure it ’s needed. We ’ve always 
got along without trouble; I think we always 
will. I — ” 

“But some of us think differently,” Rip 
put in. 

“Not about getting along without trouble?” 
asked Mr. Dodd, turning to him at once. 

“ Oh, no, sir!” exclaimed Rip, hastily, see- 
ing where his tongue had led him. 

“ I guess,” said Cudahy, turning upon him, 
“ I guess ye ’d better leave me speak, my lad. 
You forget your manners. — Mr. Dodd, the 


140 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


poor boy has only this in his head, that some- 
thing new is something fine, and all the 
younger men think the same. So we three 
have come, as standin’ for different opinions 
among us, to ask if you have any objection 
to our forming a union here.” 

“ None at all,” said Mr. Dodd, heartily. 
“In fact I regard unions as often being very 
good things. There have been times when I 
have found it difficult to get an expression 
of opinion from the men upon changes that 
I desired to make. At such times a union 
would be very helpful to us both.” 

“ Then,” asked Cudahy, “ we can just go 
ahead and form our union, sir? ” 

“ Certainly, so far as I am concerned,” an- 
swered Mr. Dodd. “ And any grievance that 
you have, just bring to me.” 

“ We will that,” said Rip, emphatically. 

“ And any improvements you wish to sug- 
gest, we can talk over at any time.” 

“ Certainly,” said Rip. 

“ And I hope we can between us make 



“ ‘ I have tried to be a fair employer.' ” Page 141 





The Union 


141 


things better here/’ finished Mr. Dodd, still 
pleasantly, although at Rip’s remarks his eyes 
had begun to sparkle. 

“ I hope we can,” was what that young 
gentleman said now, at which last rudeness 
Cudahy turned upon him and said with much 
emphasis : 

“ It ’s time for us to be going,” and with 
a hand on Rip’s shoulder he started him 
toward the door. But Mr. Dodd spoke 
again, and they paused to listen. 

“ I trust you will consider,” he said, “ that 
there are parts of the business which you have 
never had to do with, and which — pardon me 
if I speak frankly — you do not understand. 
So that, if ever I have to hold a different 
opinion from yours, remember that you are 
not really in a position to judge all my mo- 
tives. I have tried to be a fair employer, and 
to pay the men a just proportion of my own 
profits.” 

“ We all know that, sir,” said Cudahy, 
heartily. “ Leastways,” he added, with a side 


142 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


glance at Rip, “ all of us know it that are old 
enough to think.” 

“ That is a point which I was aiming at,” 
said Mr. Dodd, “ and I should like to say, 
through you three, one last word to the men 
before you form the union. We may some 
day have differences of opinion. If we do, 
remember that there are among you some 
who are too young to consider the real conse- 
quences of your acts, and some who have 
nothing at stake here whatever, so that they 
are little injured by anything that happens 
to the rest of you. Should any difference 
arise, I trust you will remember that those 
who counsel strong measures are usually those 
who suffer least from them. It is your 
wives who suffer most in any labor trouble.” 

“ Or the children, sir,” said Cudahy, “ and 
as I have a wife and children at home, I ’ll 
tell the men what you say. And I thank you 
for saying it, with your words strengthened all 
the time by the sight of your boy sitting there 
behind your back.” 


The Union 


143 


“Pelly!” cried Mr. Dodd, starting and 
turning about. “ I had forgotten that you 
were there.” 

“ Never mind if they heard, sir,” said 
Cudahy. “ But those two boys, one belong- 
ing to labor, sir, and one to capital, if you ’ll 
pardon the freedom, should be a lesson to all 
of us four, for to see them sitting cheek by 
jowl as they are, ought to make us resolve 
that they’ll never sit in different chairs.” 

“Hear, hear!” muttered Rip, savagely, 
glaring at the two lads whom he had so little 
cause to like, — or rather, to say it differently, 
whom he had given so little cause to like him. 
Mr. Dodd, whose warm glance had beamed 
approval at Cudahy’s sentiment, at once 
changed his expression. 

“Have I answered your questions?” he 
asked formally. 

“ That you have, sir,” replied Cudahy, who 
was still the spokesman, though Rip had done 
so much to spoil the discussion, while Volger 
had said nothing at all. “ That you have, and 


144 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


I thank you heartily, and we ’ll be goin’, beg- 
gin’ your pardon for any little rudenesses 
which we have n’t known better than to show.” 
And with this last thrust at Rip, the disgusted 
weaver marshalled his two companions out the 
door. 

“ Understand,” said Mr. Dodd, turning to 
the two boys as soon as the three men were 
gone, “ you are to say nothing of what you 
have heard, and next time let me know you 
are in the room.” 

The men’s union was formed that night, and 
at the election of officers Volger (who gave 
the men to understand that this was due him 
as originator of the movement) was made 
both president and treasurer. Rip, having 
good schooling and being ready with both 
words and pen, would make a good secre- 
tary, so the younger ones declared, and they 
forthwith elected him to that office. Before 
the meeting was over, however, the elder men 
had plentifully snubbed Rip for his words to 
Mr. Dodd, giving him to understand that 


The Union 


145 


respect to his employer would do him no 
harm. This Rip did not believe, for, having 
become secretary, he at once considered him- 
self of importance. And yet the snubs cut 
him, and on their account he felt a grudge 
against all (except Volger) who had been in 
the office that morning, — against Mr. Dodd 
for his breeding, and Cudahy for his blunt- 
ness, and against Tim always, but against 
Pelham for special reasons. 

For Rip disliked Pelham even more than 
Tim, remembering first his ducking in the 
river, and next the encounter at Waters’ house, 
but most of all the keen remark of Pelly’s 
in the mill, regarding Rip’s rights. The story 
of this last had spread rapidly through the 
town, and Rip had winced at many a refer- 
ence to it. It was : “ How about those other 
looms, Rip?” or “Come into all your rights 
yet?” — little flings not only from the older 
men, but even from the girls and boys. Every 
fling brought its grin from the auditors, even 

from Rip’s own friends, and Rip supposed 
10 


146 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


that Pelham had been busy telling the boys; 
whereas the story had needed but one telling 
from Cudahy in order to spread rapidly every- 
where. In fact Pelham, when questioned if 
he were the author of the excellent jest, would 
neither deny nor acknowledge it, but said 
“ Huh! ” in the way he had, as if the matter 
did not interest him. 

But with Rip it rankled, and the sight of 
Pelham always caused him to grit his teeth. 
Pelham was so unconcerned, and always so 
successful against Rip, that the latter declared, 
to Johnny Bragin and other kindred spirits, 
that he would “get square.” Nevertheless, 
while Tim kept out of Rip’s way, Pelham 
continued to saunter in his neighborhood 
whenever he chose, until Rip’s friends began 
to inquire when the revenge was to be taken. 
And one day in the mill one of the men, 
pointing out the window, said to him, “ Here ’s 
your chance to give him back his ducking.” 

Rip looked, and saw Pelham sitting above 
the mill-race, his feet hanging over its edge. 


The Union 


147 


Down the wide channel the water was rushing 
to turn the great old-fashioned wheel which 
drove half the machinery in the mill, but 
though the stream was nearly four feet deep 
Pelham sat, with his back to the mill, as un- 
concernedly as if a fall would not mean danger 
or death. Rip looked for a moment, and then, 
his face darkening, he said: 

“ I ’ll give him a scare.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SLUICEWAY 

“ "1 ON’T you be foolish, now,” warned 
W Cudahy, but Rip paid no attention. 

He stojDped his looms, went out of 
the room, and ran downstairs into the great 
yard, through the middle of which the race 
flowed. Across the race was the smaller build- 
ing, in which were the cutting, dyeing, and 
finishing rooms. No one else was in the yard 
but Pelham, who turned as Rip came from the 
mill, and saw him, but turned at once away 
again. “ Durn him!” thought Rip. 

Walking softly, he came behind Pelham, 
and then, with a sudden rough grip on the 
boy’s shoulder, pretended to push him into 
the stream. But Pelham was not frightened, 
made no resistance, and as soon as the hand 
was removed he simply brushed his shoulder 


The Sluiceway 


149 


carefully. A laugh from the windows behind 
him made Rip redden with anger. 

“ Think you ’re too fine for me to touch, do 
you? ” he demanded. 

The boy merely looked up at Rip and made 
no answer. The men laughed again, and 
others, hearing, came to the windows to look 
and listen. Pelham looked again at the swift 
water at his feet, rushing with scarcely a 
ripple to turn the great wheel not fifty feet 
away. The bottom and sides of the race were 
slippery with slime, the force of the current 
was great: it would be a bad place, Pelham 
reflected, for Rip to really push him in. 

“Won’t talk?” demanded Rip, growing 
angry. “ And yet you ’ll speak quick enough 
when it comes to telling stories about me.” 

“ Nope,” said Pelly, looking straight ahead 
of him. 

He certainly was irritating, yet the whole 
trouble sprang from Rip, who now, angered 
by the boy’s coolness and by the titters from 
behind, had no further idea than to make 


150 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Pelham acknowledge his faults. The fact 
that the men were beginning to jeer, and that 
Nate had come around the corner on his way 
to the office, dragging on a little buckboard 
his bolt of freshly dyed cloth, only made Rip 
the more determined to assert himself. 

“You haven’t told stories about me?” he 
demanded. 

“ Nope,” said Pelham again. He knew that 
he was but provoking Rip the more, yet could 
not bring himself to speak more civilly to such 
a fellow. 

“ Oh, you little liar! ” cried Rip. 

Pelham made one movement as if to turn, 
and his face flushed red. Never before had 
he been called a liar, and for a moment his 
blood boiled. Yet he managed to control him- 
self, and knowing the most forcible retort, 
once more sat silent, his back to Rip. McCook 
grew furious. 

“ I ve a mind to throw you in ! ” he cried, 
bending over Pelly, and again seizing his 
shoulder. 


The Sluiceway 


151 


It was an unfortunate movement, for just 
then Pelly, realizing Rip’s anger, saw how 
dangerous was his own situation, and began 
to turn in order to climb to his feet and walk 
away. His position was, therefore, for one 
moment less secure, and in that moment Rip, 
touching him, threw him from his balance. 
Pelham, as he slipped, seized the only support 
near at hand, Rip himself, who when Pelham 
slipped from under his hand was also uncer- 
tain of his balance. When Pelly clutched his 
knees Rip fell forward, Pelham fell back, and 
together they plunged into the water. Slip- 
ping, sliding, down the sloping race the stream 
began to drive them, toward the great wheel. 

Of all who saw them only two knew what 
to do. Nate left his buckboard, rushed to the 
edge of the race, threw himself on the ground, 
and leaned far over, with one hand seizing an 
iron stanchion, while with the other he reached 
for Pelly. He caught the boy’s arm, and 
though Rip was clutching the little fellow 
desperately, and the water was strong, Nate 


152 . Pelham and His Friend Tim 


held the pair. In the meantime Waters, 
through the dye-room window, shouted to the 
weavers across the sluice, 4 4 Shut the sluice-gate! 
Shut it! ” 

The sluice-gate was not far from them; if 
one of the men had leaped from the window, 
run a little way up stream, and loosed a rope, 
the whole affair would have been ended in a 
moment. Instead, the men, not hearing, turned 
away from the windows and rushed for the 
stairs. It would be a full minute before they 
could reach Nate. 

Waters looked around in despair. He was 
on the ground-floor of the dye-house, but 
across the stream from both Nate and the 
rope. Besides, the door was on the opposite 
side of the building, it was a long way round, 
and the window (since the secrets of the dye- 
room were among the most valuable of the 
mill) was barred. But seeing an axe lying 
there at his feet, he snatched it up, de- 
molished the window in two blows, and 
hurling the axe aside, seized the bars in his 


The Sluiceway 


153 


hands. Out of the corner of his eye he saw 
that Nate was still holding the two in the 
sluiceway; then with all the strength of his 
body he threw himself on the bars, to force 
them apart. 

Meanwhile Nate held to Pelly, in spite of 
the strain, and raised the lad’s head from the 
water. Pelham, gasping, looked up at Nate, 
then down at Rip, who now shifted himself to 
a better hold, and tried to struggle upward to 
the boy’s shoulders. Pelly, looking up again, 
saw that though Nate held grimly, his lips 
were white: the great weight and the pres- 
sure of the water were almost tearing him 
apart. 

“ You ’d better let go,” said Pelly. 

“ If that cuss wouldn’t struggle! ” was all 
Nate answered. 

But Rip, ever thinking of the great wheel 
turning so mightily and so near, did struggle, 
in his panic climbing higher and higher toward 
safety, and with every move racking Nate’s 
body. 


154 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Well, then, consarn ye,” gasped Nate, 
“ climb up over us, and git out! ” 

Yet Rip could not even do that, for the 
water was too much for him; it would not 
let him get a footing, and when once he had 
his clutch on Pelham’s shoulders he could go 
no higher. But still he struggled, and every 
move jerked Nate’s arms terribly. 

“ Don’t, Rip, don’t ! ” called Pelham, but 
Rip, even if he heard, was too frightened to 
heed. “Then Nate, let go!” commanded 
Pelly. 

“ If you go, I go! ” answered Nate through 
his teeth. “ — And I guess I ’ll go,” he 
added. 

But then the relief came. At the dye- 
house Waters, with one tremendous thrust, 
had forced the bars apart, hurled himself out 
the window, leaped the sluice, and loosed the 
rope. The sluice-gate fell, the water lost 
force and volume, and the great wheel began 
to go slower. From Pelly’s feet the last of 
the flood slipped away, and in an instant the 


The Sluiceway 


155 


danger was past. Rip relaxed his hold of 
Pelham, and Nate, releasing the boy’s arm, 
for a moment tried to pull himself up. But 
the last ounce of his strength was gone; he 
turned white beneath his tan, and came tum- 
bling down into the race. Men came running 
from the mill, and pulled all three from the 
slimy channel. 

Some set Pelham on his feet and demanded 
how he felt, some leaned over Nate as he lay 
panting on the ground, and some crowded 
about Rip, who was evidently the least ex- 
hausted of the three, and inquired how he 
was. 

“ I ’m not hurt,” said Rip, beginning to 
squeeze the water from his clothes. 

“Then I wish ye were!” said Cudahy, 
shouldering his way through Rip’s friends, 
and thrusting his face disagreeably near 
Rip’s own. “ For of all the wicked care- 
lessness — ” 

“It was an accident!” cried Rip, backing 
away. “ Warn’t it, Pelly?” 


156 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Pelham looked at him soberly. “If you 
want to call it so,” he said. 

“ I guess,” gasped Nate, without looking 
up, “ that it certainly was n’t intentional that 
we got out. Leastways all three of us.” 

“Are you all right, Nate?” asked Pelly. 

“ All right,” he answered, beginning to 
sit up. 

“ And so am I,” quoth Rip, with a swagger. 

“ Hmf ! ” grunted Nate. “ Took precious 
good care ye should be! ” The older men cast 
at Rip glances of disgust. 

And now Bob Dodd came pushing through 
the circle. “ I guess all ’s right, men,” he said, 
after a brief glance at each of the chiefs in 
the recent excitement. “ You can go back to 
your work.” But he fixed his blue eye, glow- 
ing with an unusual fire, upon Rip. “ You 
stay here, McCook. I want to have a word 
with you.” The men dispersed, although they 
longed to stay and listen. 

“ How does it happen,” demanded Bob as 
soon as the last of the others was out of hear- 


The Sluiceway 


157 


mg, “ that you left your work to come out 
here? ” 

Rip looked sulkily at the ground. “I — I 
don’t remember.” 

“ And how did you and my brother get into 
the sluice? ” 

“ We — we just fell in. It was an accident.” 

“An accident? Didn’t you lay your hand 
on him? ” 

“ Never! ” cried Rip, seeing his danger even 
while he felt he could scarcely lie himself out 
of it. “ I never touched him ! ” 

“ Did he touch you, Pelham? ” asked Bob. 

Pelham looked at Bob with a mixture of 
shrewdness and carelessness. “ Call it an ac- 
cident,” he said. Bob, looking at him, saw 
that he never would get a different answer 
from his brother. And Nate added: 

“ Yes, call it an accident. You don’t expect 
Rip intended to take a bath, Mr. Bob?” 

Pelly snickered at the thrust, and Rip, al- 
though as yet hardly out of danger, flushed 
with anger. But Bob still frowned. “I ’m not 


158 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


going to inquire into this too closely,” he 
said, “ since you all escaped from death. But, 
McCook, you know you had no business to 
leave your looms. Go home and dry yourself, 
and lose a day’s pay.” Rip, looking up to 
remonstrate, saw a dangerous gleam in his 
young employer’s eye, and said nothing. 
“ Thank your stars you got off so well,” 
added Bob. “Now go!” And Rip went. 

“ Pelly,” said Bob, putting his hand affec- 
tionately on his brother’s shoulder, “ go home 
as fast as you can. Mother must see you 
before any one tells her of this, or she will 
be frightened. — And Nate, you come in and 
see my father. No,” as Nate hung back, “ in 
you go! He will have something to say to 
you.” So Nate went reluctantly to face a 
quarter-hour of thanks and praise, and to 
parry as well as he could all questions con- 
cerning Rip. 

“ I don’t know what he meant to do,” Nate 
insisted. “ You don’t suppose he would hurt 
the boy, do you? It was just a case of bully- 


The Sluiceway 


159 


ing, it seems to me.” And as a case of bully- 
ing Mr. Dodd accepted it, thanking Heaven 
— and Nate — that all turned out so well. 
Then he sent for Waters. 

Waters was found ruefully contemplating 
the wreck of the window, and his first words 
to Mr. Dodd were of the damage he had done. 
“ But I just could n’t help it, Mr. Dodd. You 
know you made those window- frames and bars 
specially stout, so that the dye-room should n’t 
be entered, and — and I just had to smash 
out! ” 

“ My dear man,” said Mr. Dodd, with one 
hand on Waters’ shoulder, “ if you had 
smashed every window in the mills, if you 
had destroyed every dollar I own, all I could 
do would be to thank you for saving my 
boy’s life. I shall never forget this of you, 
Waters, nor of Nate, either.” 

“Well,” said the sturdy Englishman, fac- 
ing Nate, “ if you don’t know much of the 
science of dyeing, at least you came near 
showing the rest of us how you could die.” 


160 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Nate, who saw that the other was trying to 
turn the whole matter into a pun, laughed 
loudly, although with some confusion, and the 
rest joined him. Then Nate and Waters grew 
red at the first mention of any reward, and 
said, in Nate’s words, that “they’d rather 
charge it up to good-will.” And so the 
friendly conference ended. 

When the two dyers came out into the 
mill-yard they separated with a feeling of 
kindliness. In the meanwhile the noon bell 
had just rung, and all the men were there. 
Many of them were standing by the stanch- 
ion which Nate had clasped when he seized 
Pelly, and were explaining in a dozen ways 
just how it all happened. A group was at 
the dye-room window, examining the bars 
which Waters had thrust aside, and Cud- 
ahy, who was there, was loud in his 
astonishment. 

“We tried to put them back in shape,” 
he cried to the dyer. “ There were four of 
us, two on each bar. Niver a bit could we 


The Sluiceway 


161 


budge them. Hivens, Wathers, what an arm 
ye must have! ” 

“ I could n’t budge them now if I should 
try all day,” Waters answered. “ There ’s a 
difference between hot and cold, you under- 
stand, Cudahy.” 

“ But the iron has n’t been hot,” one of the 
men protested. 

“ Whist, man, he means the iron of his 
spirit, don’t you see,” explained Cudahy. 
“And Wathers, man, ye must have been 
white-hot at that minute.” 

Meanwhile, where Nate went he found in 
his way a group of the younger men, and 
among them Rip McCook, clothed again 
and (as his customary swagger showed) 
quite in his right mind. Seeing Nate, Rip 
turned to speak with him, at the same time 
saying to the group of his cronies, “ Here 
he is.” 

It was not unnatural for Nate to expect 
thanks from Rip, whose life he had undoubt- 
edly saved. But the idea of Rip’s thanks was 
11 


162 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


not pleasing. “What is it?” Nate asked, 
halting unwillingly. 

“Well,” answered Rip, with importance, 
“ us fellers wants to know how soon you ’re 
going to join our union.” 

“Hmpf!” grunted Nate. Unpleasant as 
gratitude from Rip would have been, this self- 
assertion was still more disgusting. “So your 
union ’s running now, is it? ” 

“ Yes, it ’s running,” replied Rip, “ and the 
rule is, that all workers at the mill shall join.” 

“ That ’s easily settled, then,” said Nate. 
“ I ’m not a worker at the mill.” 

He turned to go away. “ Hold on! ” cried 
Rip. “ The dyers have something to say about 
this. They won’t work with you unless you 
join.” 

“ They don’t work with me now,” returned 
Nate over his shoulder, but halting. 

“ Suppose the weavers won’t make your 
stuff any more,” went on Rip. “ Suppose 
the finishers won’t finish it?” 

“ All the same to me,” said Nate. 


The Sluiceway 


163 


“ You ’re likely to shut down this mill for 
six months,” warned Rip. 

“ I ’ve got six months’ work before me,” 
said Nate, “ thinnin’ out the hardwood on my 
southern slope. I can begin any time.” 

Rip saw that he was getting no advantage. 

“ Look here,” he insisted, “ will you join this 
union, or won’t you? ” 

Nate looked at him in contempt. “ I won’t 
join,” he answered, “ anything that you ’ve got 
to do with.” And leaving them all standing 
there, he went his way. 

Bob Dodd, passing that way after a few 
minutes, found Rip declaiming to a knot of 
the men. “ An’ it ’s not to be stood,” Bob 
heard, “ that a berry-pickin’, two-tub dyer 
should n’t join our union.” 

“ McCook,” said Bob, “ may I have a 
word with you?” And Rip, when he came 
close to Bob, saw that his eye was flashing 
as before. 

“ I could n’t help hearing what you said,” 
Bob began, “ and I can’t help saying this to 


164 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


you. If there ever was a man who should 
say nothing* against Nate, you are that man! ” 
Rip, in confusion, could only mumble that 
he was thinking of principle. 

“You were n’t thinking this morning of the 
principle of sticking to your work,” said Bob. 
“It strikes me you ’re not consistent. Re- 
member that that was not the first time you 
left your place. I think it ’s about time that 
I hinted to you that a four-loom man who 
can’t keep at work is not of much value to 
his employer.” He turned and went away. 

“ He threatened me! ” said Rip excitedly to 
his fellows. “ He threatened to discharge me. 
I call you fellers to remember that the union 
stands by a man that ’s discharged ! ” 

“ We ’ll stand by you, Rip,” cried his mates 
unanimously. 


CHAPTER XIV 


NON-UNION LABOR 

M R. DODD’S first act after the escape 
of Pelham in the sluice was to call 
his carpenter and order the long 
trough to be covered. On the very next day 
men were at work there, laying a firm plank 
floor across the sluice, and along its whole 
hundred feet of length. It was a relief to his 
mind, so Mr. Dodd declared, to have that 
danger trap closed forever; it was, besides, 
a convenience to be able to cross the sluice 
at any point, instead of having to go around. 
As for the boys, they took great delight in 
the work, as in anything new, and ran and 
jumped upon the floor to hear the hollow echo 
from below. 

It was at this time that care, of which Tim 
had known so much more than a boy should, 


166 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


first began to show itself in Pelham’s life. It 
occurred to him that for a week he and Tim 
had played nearly alone, and he asked the 
natural question, “ Where are all the boys?” 

“ Oh,” answered Tim, “ they ’re somewhere, 
I guess.” 

“ But,” persisted Pelham, following out his 
line of thought, “ I have n’t seen much of any 
of them lately. We haven’t had a ball-game 
for a week.” 

“ No,” said Tim. “ You see, it ’s all this 
union business. Our crowd has formed a 
union of its own.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed Pelham. “Leaving us 
out, I suppose.” 

By “ us ” he meant the employer’s sons, and 
Tim understood him so, — understood, too, the 
haughty tone which sprang naturally from 
Pelham’s lips. “We — we didn’t mean to 
leave you out,” he said. 

“ Only you did n’t ask us,” added Pelly. 

“Why, how could we?” Tim asked. 
“We’re the workingmen’s sons. And your 


Non-Union Labor 


167 


father ’s owner, and Mr. Blair ’s superin- 
tendent, and Mr. Spott ’s cashier, so how 
could we ask you and Arthur and Lawrence 
and Biff? ” 

“ Well,” said Pelham, “ we can have a union 
of our own, only — ” he turned to Tim with 
tears starting from his eyes, “ only it spoils 
everything, that ’s all I can say.” 

“ And I say so, too! ” cried Tim, distressed 
at Pelly’s emotion. “ I joined, of course, 
when the fellows asked me, but I don’t like 
it, and I ’m sorry there ’s a union here at the 
mill, and I wish they were n’t talking against 
Nate.” 

“ Talking against Nate! ” exclaimed Pelly. 
“ What have they to do with Nate, I ’d like 
to know? ” 

“ Well, it ’s this way,” said Tim, and pro- 
ceeded to tell a tale of which the following is 
a brief account. 

That morning, as Tim and his guardian sat 
at breakfast, Bridget, wearing her apron, as 
usual, had stalked up to the door, and leaning 


168 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


against the jamb, had looked in on them. 
“ Mighty neat here,’’ was at first her only 
answer to their greetings. 

“We have to be neat,” explained Waters, 
“ because we have to do the cleaning.” 

“Huh!” said Bridget, “it’d take more 
than that to make some folks neat.” And 
thus reminded of the “men-folks” she had 
left behind, she jerked her thumb over her 
shoulder in the direction of home. “ They ’re 
cornin’ to see you,” she said to Waters, — 
“ Volger and Rip and some others.” 

“Why doesn’t your father come?” asked 
Waters, with scorn, and when Bridget ex- 
plained that McCook had refused, on the 
ground that “ he would n’t never darken 
Waters’ door,” the dyer asked, “What are 
they coming for? ” 

“To tell you they want you to ask Nate to 
join the union.” 

“ Me to ask that? ” cried the amazed dyer. 

“ Well, they ’re coming,” persisted Bridget, 
“ and I came to say that they said they 


Non-Union Labor 


169 


could n’t insist on it without you, as you ’re 
the master-dyer. So I thought if you knew, 
you ’d hold firm.” 

“ I ’ll hold firm enough! ” declared Waters, 
wagging his head ; and on that assurance 
Bridget abruptly departed, to be replaced in 
half an hour by several of the younger men, 
with Volger and Rip at their head. After 
some preliminaries, in which Waters sat 
grimly silent and would not help them to 
come to the point, they managed to explain 
that they thought it right that Nate should 
join the union. 

“ Oh, ye do? ” was all Waters said. 

“ And,” went on Volger, “ we thought we ’d 
see what you ’d say to that.” 

“ Oh, if ye want such an amatoor coming 
in with us professionals,” said Waters, “ I 
don’t care.” 

“ But we wanted you to lead the demand,” 
said Volger. 

“What,” asked Waters with a fine sneer, 
and in his pride in the mill-work completely 


170 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


undervaluing Nate’s rare masterpieces, “ye 
think I see any need of associatin’ with that 
Yankee in his shanty on the hill? Well, then, 
I don’t.” 

“ But he ’s taking work from honest union 
labor,” explained Volger,. 

“ Is he? ” asked Waters. “ I don’t see how 
his sixty to seventy bolts a year make the 
slightest difference to our eighteen thousand.” 

“ All the same,” urged Volger, retiring upon 
general principles, “ we think he ought to be 
made to join.” 

“ All the same, I don’t,” retorted Waters. 
“ His little workshop is too small a thing for 
us to notice. I never think of it myself.” 
Then, seeing on the faces of his visitors, as 
well as feeling in his own mind, knowledge 
of the fact that Nate’s little workshop was 
the one thorn in his own side, the dyer 
abruptly demanded, “ Are you a deputation 
from the union? ” 

“ No,” admitted Volger. 

“Well, then,” said Waters, with a wave of 


Non-Union Labor 


171 


his hand toward the door, a gesture which 
might have been accidental, but which looked 
singularly as if it were intended, “ I don’t 
see the use of discussing this at all.” And 
this was all the little self-appointed committee 
could get out of him. 

“First rate!” said Pelham, when Tim had 
told him so much, “ that question won’t bother 
us any more. Will it? ” he asked, seeing an 
expression of doubt cross Tim’s face. 

“ I ’m not so sure,” Tim said. “ I think 
Mr. Waters made them cross, and then Rip ’s 
in a nasty temper. He hates Mr. Waters, and 
he hates me. It only made him madder to 
see us together. He kept looking round the 
room as if he ’d like to burn it, and us ; he 
did n’t look me in the face at all, but he 
looked at me, and I know it just made him 
furious to see me where he could n’t get at 
me, and dressed in good clothes. I think he 
won’t let Nate alone, if only to spite us. — 
And look over there ! ” 

Pelham looked where Tim pointed, and saw 


172 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Rip, Volger, and a half-dozen of the younger 
men leaving the mill-yard together, heading 
for the country and Nate’s woods. It was 
noon of a Saturday, and the men doubtless 
had the rest of the day off. “ They ’re going 
to Nate’s!” exclaimed Pelly. In the next 
breath he added, “Let’s warn him!” 

“ Let ’s ! ” echoed Tim, and so they went. 
They left the mill-yard by its other end, took 
a short cut through the fields, and were soon 
well ahead of the men. They went with great 
eagerness, forgetting entirely that Tim was 
of the working class and Pelham of the em- 
ployers’, but going, with a friend’s instinct, to 
warn their friend. 

They found Nate as before, seated in his 
shed, and turning the handle of his home- 
made “ jigger,” a simple but clever imitation 
of the elaborate machines at the mill. He 
heard their story without a word, merely 
wrinkling his homely face as he listened. 

“ Too bad them fellers must be cuttin’ up 
such shines,” he said when they had finished. 


Non-Union Labor 


173 


44 Some of them is young and foolish, and the 
rest is old and foolish, ’n so the combination ’s 
poor.” 

“ What will you do ? ” asked the two boys 
together. 

“Wal,” returned Nate, “I don’t see’s I 
c’n do anythin’. Jes’ consider the case. I live 
here all soul alone, earn my livin’, pay my 
taxes, and don’t callate to interfere with no- 
body. My earnin’ ’s just about enough for 
me, ’n a little against a rainy day. A pack 
of fellers comes along and says to me, 4 Pay 
us fifty cents a month! ’ But why should I? ” 

44 Unions are in style,” said Pelly. 

44 Not my style,” answered Nate. 44 Now I 
hear voices cornin’. You two just sit still and 
say nothin’, and let me manage the whole of 
it.” 

The men, arriving, crowded together into 
the shed, with Rip aggressively ahead. He 
looked surprised at seeing the boys, whom he 
had left at the mill, and glared at them sus- 
piciously; but they were innocently talking 


174 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


together. Nate spoke up with an irony which 
his visitors understood. 

“ Come right along in! Don’t stop to 
knock.” Since the men had not knocked at 
all, some of them looked a bit awkward, but 
they continued to come in, until the whole of 
them, seven in all, were in the shed. Then 
Nate, still winding his roll of corduroy into 
and out of the tub of dye, stood up and faced 
them. 

“ What can I do for ye? ” asked he. 

Rip, who was nearest, did not wait even for 
Volger to speak first. “You can guess what 
we ’re here for,” he said with a sneer, “ even 
if those boys haven’t told you already.” 

“ Never mind them boys,” said Nate. “ But 
since you and Mr. Yolger have come here to 
see me, I could guess you ’ve come about your 
union.” 

“We hope you ’ll say ‘ our ’ union,” put in 
Volger, endeavoring to quiet Rip. But Rip 
had taken the bit between his teeth. 

“We warned you the other day,” he said. 


Non-Union Labor 


175 


“Now we ’ve come to give you your last 
chance. Will you join us?” 

Nate looked humorously at him. “ Kind of 
a money-or-your-life affair, ain’t it?” he asked. 

“ It is n’t your money we want,” said Rip, 
contemptuously. “ Let me tell you that our 
union has joined the amalgamated brother- 
hood of mill- workers, and their treasury is 
ours whenever we go on strike. We ’ll get 
strike pay.” 

Nate whistled. “That’s easy!” he ex- 
claimed. “ Only I don’t see the common- 
sense of it. The brotherhood will pay the 
expenses of any strike that any fool may 
start, when you ’ve not paid a month’s dues 
into its treasury? That is a brotherhood! 
Now if I could rightly believe I could get 
my week’s pay for doing nothing, I don’t 
know but I ’d join ye.” 

Though his face was serious, he was laugh- 
ing at them, and the men saw it. “ Don’t you 
be funny, now,” said one of them. Then 
Volger spoke. 


176 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ I see you don’t believe that, but it ’s true. 
It is a true brotherhood, helping the working- 
man to right his wrongs, and not thinking of 
the cost to itself.” 

“ Wal,” said Nate, “ I ain’t got no wrongs 
to right, an’ so I don’t need no help. An’ it 
don’t strike me as businesslike, that brother- 
hood of yours. Either its system ain’t what 
you say, or it ’ll be bankrupt within a year. 
Why, I can see you fellers are just spoiling 
for a strike, thinkin’ you ’ll get your pay for 
nothin’. Who’s your treasurer?” 

“ I,” said Volger. 

“ What do you do with the money of the 
union? ” asked Nate. 

“ I keep it,” answered Volger, but his face 
darkened. 

“ In your pocket, I suppose,” said Nate. 
“ Have you got any receipts to show for the 
money you pay the brotherhood?” 

“ They don’t give receipts,” answered Vol- 
ger, his face darker still. 

“We don’t want any receipts,” said Rip. 


Non-Union Labor 


177 


“ Don’t ye? ” asked Nate. “ Well, then, if 
ye want to put your money into the hands of 
a man who ’s been in the town not over ’n’ 
above six weeks, never askin’ him for an ac- 
countin’, then ye can do it, but I won’t.” 

“ Just as you please,” said Volger, with 
an appearance of carelessness, shrugging his 
shoulders. 

But he went near the tub of dye, instead 
of away from it, and Rip, as he too stepped 
forward, did it in a hurried manner, as if to 
cover Volger’s movement. There was a little 
bustle among the others also, and they pressed 
nearer Nate, although some of them watched 
Volger furtively. Rip, trying to hold Nate’s 
eye, tried also to speak, but did not at first 
know what to say. “You — you — ” he said 
in his haste. “ You ’d better think twice.” 

“ Once is enough for me,” answered Nate. 
“ Look out you don’t get into my dye, Mister 
Volger. — Ah, ye would, would ye?” 

For there was a movement of Volger’s hand, 

almost imperceptible, and a flash of yellow 
12 


178 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


that leaped from him toward the tub of dye. 
There was no splash, but on the green sur- 
face of the dye appeared a yellow powder, 
floating, but almost immediately beginning to 
dissolve in the dark liquid. A moment, and 
it would sink, and the dye would be spoiled. 
But Nate was too quick. 


CHAPTER XV 


NATE’S GREEN DYE 

“ X 7E would ?” Nate snarled again. With 
a long arm he snatched a gourd, a 
flat dish, that hung by the machine, 
and with an instant movement skimmed the 
whole powder from the dye. He flung the 
dishful of liquid upon Volger, skimmed again, 
and yet again, and two more dishfuls of the 
dye went spattering among his visitors. Then 
he leaned over his beloved machine, and looked 
carefully down into the tub. 

“Saved, by Jingo!” he ejaculated, and 
looked upon the mill-men with relief. They 
had leaped back as far as the wall would 
allow, were brushing and wiping the dye 
from their clothes, and now began complain- 
ing angrily. But Volger, who had received 


180 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


most of the dye, said nothing, and Rip, who 
had got some in his face, was busy cleaning 
his mouth from the evil-tasting stuff. Nate 
looked at Volger. 

“ A city trick, I take it? ” he asked. 

“ The boys did that,” said Volger. 

“ They did! I saw ’em!” sputtered Rip. 

“ Oh, they did, did they? ” asked Nate; and 
his eye, hitherto showing but a contemptuous 
humor, began to gleam with a different light. 
“ Perhaps I did it myself, absent-minded like! 
And perhaps you ’d be mighty sorry to see 
spoiled seventy dollars’ wuth of dress-goods! 
Now, I ’d jest like all of ye to get out of my 
house! ” 

“We won’t go!” cried Rip, recovering his 
power of expression. “ We ’ll have satisfac- 
tion first.” 

“I’ll give it ye!” retorted Nate, and he 
again dipped the gourd-dish into the dye. “I ’ll 
give ye a full quart measure of satisfaction 
this minute, if ye say.” Rip backed away as 
the angry dyer held the dish threateningly, 


Nate's Green Dye 


181 


and the man who was nearest the door took 
occasion to slip out. 

“ One gone! ” cried Nate. “ Now out with 
the rest of ye! Or will ye all have satisfac- 
tion? ” He took a step nearer, and with one 
accord his visitors huddled out. 

“You’ve spoiled our clothes!” they cried 
from a safe distance. “ You ’ll pay for 
this! ” 

“ I ’ve set my mark on ye,” Nate exulted. 
“So long ’s ye wear them clothes any one in 
the town ’ll know ye. Nate Downing’s fast 
dyes are pretty well known, I fancy.” 

“We’ll dye you black and blue!” one of 
them called, shaking his fist. 

“ Green ’s wuss,” retorted Nate. “ I ’ve 
marked ye for greenhorns, every last one of 
ye.” And with this exchange of witticisms 
they parted. 

“ Boys,” said Nate, re-entering the shed, 
“ get along home now. You ’ve seen what 
happened; tell the truth about it. Only first 
— I ’m much obliged.” He shook the hand 


182 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


of each, and soon the boys were speeding back 
to the town. 

The work was always irregular on a Satur- 
day afternoon. The weavers and spinners 
usually got out at noon. The cutters and 
dyers always finished up such pieces as they 
had on hand, cleaned up, and went away as 
soon as they had done. The men w r ho had 
been to Nate’s, returning from their errand, 
at once scattered among their mates, to tell 
with much exaggeration how the union had 
been defied. They showed their green-spotted 
clothes and their stained hands, and exhorted 
the union to resent Nate’s conduct. 

Of them Rip was fiercest of all, — so fierce 
that he forgot his own ridiculous appearance. 
He could not wash off the green that blotched 
his jaw; but after rubbing it as long as he 
could with soap and water, he went hot-foot 
to the mill, to spread the doctrine of rebellion. 
The dyers had not yet left, but Rip knew 
better than to venture into Waters’ domain. 
To the cutting-room he went, and there found 


Nates Green Dye 


183 


a half-dozen of the men, hastening to finish 
their work. 

The older men were not anxious to stop and 
talk with Rip ; of the younger, there was only 
one whom he thought he could impress. This 
was Wat Mayhew, a bright lad, smaller than 
Rip, and of no great strength of character, 
but very clever with his hands in that depart- 
ment of work where a true eye and wrist could 
bring good wages and much responsibility. 
For of all the processes in the making of cor- 
duroy, except the dyeing, the cutting is the 
most important. 

The strip of corduroy as it comes from the 
loom bears no resemblance to the finished 
product. Its surface is ribbed indeed, but the 
ribs are flat, being in reality long sheaves of 
crosswise thread which must be cut open from 
end to end. The threads, released by the cut- 
ting, are brushed upright, and make the true 
ribs. The cutting, though occasionally done 
by machine, is still chiefly handwork, the cutter 
using an instrument which much resembles a 


184 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


fencing foil, having a wooden handle, a long 
square blade, and a point as sharp as a needle, 
with six inches of cutting edge which is lit- 
erally razor-keen. When once the cloth is 
stretched, the point of the tool is inserted in 
a sheaf of threads, the blade is run along 
it with a full sweep of the arm, and at each 
thrust five feet of the rib is cut open. When 
all the parallel ribs of one section of the cloth 
have been cut, a new section is begun, until 
by many hundred strokes the whole is com- 
pleted. And each one of the strokes must be 
exactly like every one of the others, — let the 
wrist turn ever so little sidewise, and one part 
of the finished rib will be higher than the rest; 
or let the point go wrong, and the fabric is 
badly gashed. There is much at stake, there- 
fore, in the cutting-room, where a moment of 
carelessness can spoil a whole bolt of good 
corduroy. 

Rip went up to Mayhew, who was in the 
middle of a bolt, ruefully considering that the 
whole afternoon would scarcely see his work 


Nate's Green Dye 


185 


finished. But as his eyes fell on Rip he had 
to pause to laugh at the green splotched face. 

“ Rip, you ’re a sight! ” he cried. 

“ I came to show it to you,” explained Rip, 
loudly, while the other men, hearing May- 
hew’s words, looked, and began to grin. 
“ That ’s the way Nate treats the delegates 
of the union!” 

“ He does?” cried the others, and at once 
most of them left their work to come near 
and listen. Rip, well pleased, displayed his 
face with the air of a martyr, and told his 
tale with effective details, forgetting to men- 
tion the yellow powder which had been thrown 
into the tub. It delighted him to see the in- 
terest with which the men listened to the story, 
and at the end he finished triumphantly: 

“ Now, what do you say about it? ” 

“We ’ll have to do something,” they de- 
clared. 

“We ’ll have him into the union or else out 
of work,” cried Rip. “ The spinners won’t 
spin thread for him, nor the weavers weave 


186 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


it, nor you fellers cut it, nor the finishers 
finish it. I tell you, we ’ll rip up his business 
just as I rip up this cloth.” And taking up 
the cutter which Mayhew had laid down, in 
elation Rip set its point to the cloth to make 
the thrust which all boys knew and practised 
in imagination, but which so few of them had 
ever really tried. 

“Don’t!” cried Mayhew, springing toward 
him. But Rip held him off with one hand, 
while he kept the tool at the cloth with the 
other, and Mayhew drew away at once, afraid 
lest by pushing Rip he should bring about the 
very damage which he dreaded. 

“Please don’t!” he begged, clasping his 
hands. 

“You’d better not!” warned two of the 
older men. 

For a moment Rip hesitated, but then came 
strolling into the room the two inseparables, 
Tim and Pelly, whose faculty of appearing 
before Rip at the wrong moment was never 
better shown than now. For though' they 


Nate's Green Dye 


187 


continued to walk along, Pelly’s eye was 
fixed on Rip, in understanding of the whole 
situation, and watching to see what Rip would 
do. Rip was exasperated, became defiant, and 
forgot his good impulse. 

“I will! ” he exclaimed, and pushed the 
cutter along the cloth. 

“Oh!” groaned Mayhew, in anguish. 

“Now you Ve done it!” said one of the 
others. 

Rip’s hasty thrust had gone entirely wrong, 
slashing from one rib through into another, 
and then another, finally piercing the back of 
the cloth itself and cutting a slit a foot long. 
Rip saw it with dismay, but in the presence 
of the little boys he would not show his fright. 

“ That ’s nothin’ ! ” he said. But he put the 
tool down upon the cloth, and turned as if 
to go. 

And there stood Bob Dodd! He had come 
into the room, saw the group at the bench, 
heard the men’s words, and at once perceived 
what had happened. He strode to the cloth, 


188 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


took one look at the injury, and then turned 
to Rip. 

“You did this, McCook?” he asked. 

Rip could not deny it. “I did,” he muttered. 

“ You know you have no business here,” 
said Bob. Rip nodded, his eyes on the floor. 
“You have no business to touch another man’s 
tool; you were entirely wrong to try to cut 
this cloth. You knew it ’s against the rules? ” 

“No,” answered Rip, half-heartedly. He 
knew it very well. 

“ Then you should have,” said Bob. “ The 
rules have been posted in every room of the 
mills these ten years. Were you paid off at 
noon? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Rip. 

“ Then we Ve done with you,” said Bob. 

“ What do you mean? ” cried Rip. 

“ You ’re discharged,” answered Bob. “ I 
warned you only a little while ago. You 
needn’t come back on Monday.” 

“ Discharged? Me discharged? ” demanded 
Rip, angrily. 


Nate's Green Dye 


189 


“ You are,” answered Bob, coolly. “ I think 
that ’s plain enough for you to understand.” 

“The union won’t have it!” shouted Rip, 
his face, where it was not green, turning very 
red. “ I ’m secretary, do you know that? ” 

“ Even if you ’re the whole thing,” re- 
plied Bob, “ you are discharged. Run away, 
McCook.” 

Rip did not run, hut he walked away. 
“You wait!” he said over his shoulder. 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE STRIKE 

T HE affair at Nate’s house and the 
discharge of Rip created at the mill 
a situation much like that which comes 
about when a boy with a gun sees a bird to 
shoot at. The boy has no thought of misery 
to the bird, or even that perhaps the gun will 
kick and lame his own shoulder. But he 
itches to shoot, and he shoots. 

The men were like the boy, the union was 
their gun, and Nate and Rip were their ex- 
cuse for shooting, — their Grievance. They 
did not consider that if they called a strike 
misery would result, at least, they did not 
expect it to come to them. The story of 
Nate’s defiance of the union, and his use of 
his dye, flew about among them, minus the 


The Strike 


191 


item of the yellow powder. Likewise the 
story of Rip’s discharge, as told by the victim 
of it, went from house to house. The men 
had Sunday to think it over in, if they wanted 
to think. But they did not want to think, 
and so called a meeting that very night. 
There Volger related, in flowery words, the 
grievances of the union. He proposed that 
Mr. Dodd be required to take Rip back 
again and to discharge Nate, and the vote 
was about to be taken. Then Waters rose 
to speak. 

Waters could be blunt at times, as an 
Englishman can, and just now he was dis- 
gusted with his mates. “ Do you know,” he 
asked, “ that you ’re rushing into this just like 
boys? You don’t see where you’re going. 
You haven’t heard the whole story of what 
happened at Nate’s house; you don’t know 
all about McCook’s discharge. You ’re a set 
of noodles ! ” 

This was not the way in which to persuade 
the men. They roared at him to sit down, 


192 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


but he held his ground and shouted back 
above their noise. 

“ Ask about the yellow powder that was 
thrown into Nate’s dye!” cried Waters. 
“Who threw that in?” 

“ It was them two boys! ” screamed Rip. 

“Mighty likely!” sneered Waters. “And 
now just consider whether that four-loom 
weaver had any business in the cutting-room 
spoiling good corduroy. Any man that comes 
into my place and dabbles in my dye is going 
to get into trouble, I can tell all of ’e.” 

“ It was only a little cut,” shouted Rip 
again. “ The bolt was n’t spoiled. I was 
discharged out of spite ! ” 

Waters turned to the more sensible of the 
men. “ I warn ’e that Mr. Dodd won’t con- 
sider this, not one minute. How much have 
we in our treasury to stand a strike? Not 
two months’ dues! Are ye ready to go into 
your savings for that young ripper’s sake? ” 
And he pointed to Rip. 

The married men looked thoughtful, but 


The Strike 


193 


the others were in control of the meeting. 
“We want our rights! ” they clamored. “We 
stick to our principles ! ” 

And Volger shouted: “ Mr. Dodd won’t let 
us go, or if he does he ’ll call us back in less 
than a week.” 

“ You don’t know him,” replied Waters with 
hearty scorn. “ But I tell all of ’e here and 
now, I won’t strike for such reasons, nor will 
I disgrace the union for the sake of a man 
that disgraces himself.” And with that he 
went out of the hall; but he went alone, for 
the men, like the boy with his gun, were still 
pleased with their new weapon. They voted 
to send a committee to Mr. Dodd with their 
demands, agreeing that in case of his refusal 
they would strike. Blind haste was preparing 
trouble for them. 

On Sunday some of the older men, some- 
what doubting, came to Waters where he sat 
smoking on his steps, with Tim at his side. 
“ What is all this about the yellow powder at 
Nate’s house? ” they asked. 

13 


194 Pelham and His Friend* Tim 


He told them briefly. “ That is not what 
the others say,” said Cudahy, in doubt. 

“ Then believe the others,” answered Waters, 
gruffly. “ Believe Volger or Rip McCook. 
Don’t ask for the word of a boy that never 
told a lie,” and he pointed to Tim, “ nor of 
me, that ye ought to know after all these 
years. But take the word of a McCook, and 
follow the lead of a man ye never saw till a 
few weeks ago.” And not another word 
would he say on the subject. 

Monday morning came, and all the men 
went to the mill. Till nine o’clock the work 
proceeded, but when the hour came for Mr. 
Dodd to be at his desk, a deputation of the 
men went to him, with Volger at their head. 
They made upon him two demands: first, 
that he should give no more work to Nate 
unless he would join the union; second, 
that Rip should be taken back. Mr. Dodd, 
and Bob his son, sat silent while the men 
were having their say. Then Mr. Dodd 
inquired : 


The Strike 


195 


“ And what if I don’t do as you ask? ” 

“ Then we ’ll stop work,” said Volger. 

“ All of you? ” asked Mr. Dodd. 

“ All but Waters,” answered the spokesman, 
with some contempt. 

“ Well, then,” began Mr. Dodd after a 
moment’s thought, “ I will answer you. First 
as to young McCook — ” 

“May I say a word about him?” inter- 
rupted Bob, and having received his father’s 
consent, he faced the men. “ As to Rip 
McCook,” he said, “ I ’ve told my father that 
if he takes him back, I ’ll go!” 

Young as Bob Dodd was, he had the repu- 
tation of knowing his own mind, and the 
men looked at each other, startled. Mr. Dodd 
smiled. 

“You see,” he said to the men, “ I can 
hardly send away my own son. Besides 
which, McCook was justly discharged, and I 
promise you that he will never again work 
at this mill. Next, as to my asking Nate to 
join your union: I will not do it. So long 


196 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


as he wants to work for me, he shall, even if 
you all leave me.” 

“ Then we ’ll all leave,” said Volger, 
promptly. 

“ Very well,” answered Mr. Dodd, quietly. 
“ Will you carry a message from me to the 
men? Tell them from me that any man who 
wishes to stay shall be given work', but to 
those that go out I will give no more work 
for a month.” 

“ You need n’t trouble about that,” answered 
Volger. “ They won’t stay.” 

“ I shall close the mills for a month for 
repairs,” went on Mr. Dodd as if Volger had 
not spoken. “ Most of my orders are filled, 
and I shall be very glad of a chance to clean 
house. Good-day.” 

“ Good-day, sir,” answered the men in a 
doubting chorus, and they straggled from the 
office, feeling uncertain of the future. Like 
boys, they had threatened more than they 
meant, and were surprised to be taken at 
their word. And a month off! A strike of 


The Strike 


197 


a few days they could bear, especially if it 
brought success; but, except Volger, there 
was not a man there who was willing to lose 
a month’s wages for the sake of Nate and 
of Rip McCook. Yet, still like boys, they 
looked bold and carried it through. The 
word was sent round through the buildings, 
and the men left their work. Thus quietly 
was brought about the strike which a week 
before would have seemed absurd. 

Waters alone remained at his post. “ All 
out! ” called his men to him, but he stuck to 
his mixing. 

“All fools out!” he answered. “Away 
with ’e all. Ye ’ll come back again presently, 
I ’m thinking.” 

And Mr. Dodd found him alone at his 
post. “ Thank you, Waters,” said his em- 
ployer. “ This is the second time you ’ve 
done me a great service. Of all the men, I 
need you most. For I can’t lose my reputa- 
tion for always filling my contracts.” 

“ Is there work to do? ” asked Waters. 


198 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“If we can dye and finish eighty bolts in 
ten days,” said Mr. Dodd, “ that will com- 
plete the last of my summer contracts.” 

“Eighty bolts!” cried Waters. “It can’t 
be done, sir! ” 

“ It must be done,” answered Mr. Dodd. 

“ What help can you give me, then? ” 
Waters asked. 

“ There is myself,” said Mr. Dodd. “You 
needn’t stare, Waters. I’ve worked in a 
mill before now. There ’s Bob, of course, 
and Arthur can help in some ways. Mr. 
Blair, Mr. Spotts, and their two sons. That 
makes three boys, I know, but they are all 
clever.” 

“ You forget your son Pelham,” said 
Waters. 

“ He ’s too small,” replied Mr. Dodd. 

“ B eggin’ your pardon, sir, too small he is 
not, nor is my own little Tim, and with these 
we can do the work, perhaps, so far as the 
unskilled labor goes. No offence meant to 
you or Mr. Bob, but I ’ve got to have one 


The Strike 


199 


skilled dyer. Yet I know where I can get 
one.” 

“ Who is he?” asked Mr. Dodd. 

“ Nate,” answered Waters. 

Mr. Dodd was surprised. He knew well 
that, deep down in his heart, Waters was en- 
vious of the skill of the other dyer. Mr. 
Dodd had seen Waters examine Nate’s work, 
trying, and failing, to condemn it honestly. 
The mill- worker had had to be content to sneer 
at Nate’s small establishment, to say that 
Nate’s colors were “ all well enough,” and to 
call him the “ farmer dyer.” But always 
Waters, in spite of his sturdy satisfaction in 
his own work, had felt a painful doubt 
whether, after all, Nate were not the artist 
and he himself the mere artisan. Having this 
feeling, professional jealousy would be the 
most natural thing in the world — but now 
he proved himself superior to that. 

Mr. Dodd, in great pleasure, said heartily: 
“ That is very generous of you ! ” 

Waters flushed. “ I ’m not sayin’ that he 


200 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


mayn’t make a mess here, perhaps, spoilin’ 
a bolt or two, not knowin’ the true way to 
work. But a dyer ’s a dyer, even if he ’s 
only a amatoor, and Nate ’s better than 
nothin’.” 

Mr. Dodd, as he turned away, hid a smile 
at Waters’ words. “ Well,” the employer said, 
“ I ’ll send for Nate to come, and we ’ll get 
to work on a new basis this afternoon. I ’ll 
put the boys on the payroll, Waters, and we ’ll 
see what a crippled mill can do.” 

Out in the yard, an hour later, he found 
Pelham and Tim, who with boys’ instincts for 
excitement were prowling round for news. 
But Tim was half in tears. “ What is it, my 
boy?” asked Mr. Dodd. 

“ The fellers called me a scab,” explained 
Tim. “ I joined their union, but I won’t join 
their strike ; not so long as my guardian 
won’t.” 

“ But the boys can’t strike ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Dodd. 

“ They play they ’re striking,” explained 


The Strike 


201 


Pelly, in some contempt at his father’s slow- 
ness. “ It ’s all the same.” 

“So it is,” said Mr. Dodd. “Well, will 
you two boys play you ’re working for me? 
I want to send some one with a message to 
Nate.” 

“ They’ve picketed Nate,” Pelham informed 
him. “ They know he ’s got some cloth to 
bring back, and they don’t intend he shall, 
nor that you shall send for it, either.” 

“Picketed!” cried Mr. Dodd, frowning. 
“ Can you boys get to the house? ” 

“Of course!” they cried, and Tim bright- 
ened at the idea of something to do. 

“ Go to him, then,” directed Mr. Dodd. 
“ Slip up to the house without being seen, 
tell Nate I want him to help here at the mill 
for ten days or so, and to pack up and wait. 
I ’ll send the carriage in about an hour, and 
you can all come down together.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE PICKET 



l LL right, sir!” the two boys shouted 
in delight; and after capering for 
a moment to show how pleased they 
were, off they went at a run to get to Nate’s 
as soon as possible. 

“ There can’t be danger,” mused Mr. Dodd 
as he watched them. “ The men have lost 
their heads, but no workman of mine would 
hurt either of those boys.” 

He forgot Rip McCook. As soon as the 
strike was declared, Rip plunged into the de- 
tail of it. He was ready with plans for boy- 
cotting the families of the employers, for 
picketing the mill, for doing anything and 
everything in approved city style. With sev- 
eral of his companions he went to the butcher’s, 
and unfolded to him a plan of stopping Mr. 


The Picket 


203 


Dodd’s supplies of meat. The butcher looked 
scornful. 

“Cut off my best customer, shall I?” he 
demanded. “ And why, I want to know? Be- 
cause you fellows have been fools enough to 
quarrel with your bread and butter? You’re 
the ones I ’ll cut off first of all, and I make 
the rule from this minute, that every one of 
you that buys at my store pays cash until he ’s 
at work again.” 

So, within half an hour of the beginning 
of the strike, Rip’s plan for a boycott was 
knocked on the head. Some of the men 
grumbled with him as they sat on his door- 
step talking the matter over. Loud among 
them was a man named Fahey, whose de- 
nunciation of the butcher almost equalled 
Rip’s. 

“ Tell ye what,” said Bridget, leaning from 
the doorway. “ Tell ye what, Mr. Fahey, if 
you want to begin a boycott, it ’s easy enough. 
Your daughter is second girl at Mrs. Blair’s. 
Tell her to stop work and come home.” 


204 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ That ’s the idea ! ” cried Rip, for once 
approving of Bridget’s words. “ Call your 
daughter home.” 

“ No, no! ” cried Fahey in a panic. “ Her 
earnings are all we Ve got to live on, now. 
What for shall I take all the bread out of 
my own mouth, I ’d like to know? And my 
wife waitin’ to scold me as soon as I go home, 
too!” 

Biddy looked at Rip. “ Boycottin ’s no 
good,” she said shrewdly, and he realized that 
with the suggestion about Fahey’s daughter 
she had led him into a trap. “ Try picketin’ 
the mill.” 

But when Rip adopted this suggestion, 
even Volger opposed it. “ Why should we 
do that? ” he asked. “ Mr. Dodd ’s not look- 
ing for more workmen yet. When he does it 
will be time for us to picket. Don’t you 
worry, Rip. It will all be over in a few 
days.” 

But Rip had to picket something, and Nate 
occurred to him. “ There he is up there on 


The Picket 


205 


his hill,” he declared, “ with that bolt of green 
cloth that he ’s not yet brought back. Are 
we goin’ to let him take that back to the mill, 
I ’d like to know? ” And Nate’s green dye, 
still visible on Rip’s face after two days, and 
still showing brilliantly upon the clothes of his 
companions, emphasized the situation. 

“ Oh, let him do what he wants with his 
cloth,” said Cudahy. But the others would not 
have it so. They declared that Nate and his 
green cloth should stay upon the hillside, and 
a dozen of them started at once to surround 
Nate’s house and prevent his escape. 

Tim and Pelly had heard of this, and saw 
the picket start on its way. They flew with 
the news to the mill, and told Waters, who, 
after a few questions, showed the weakness 
of the enemy. “ There they go,” he declared, 
“without a bit of food, and without blankets 
to pass the night. That ’s the way the whole 
strike has been conducted, and you boys can 
guess just how it will end.” 

So now, inspirited by Waters, and sent by 


206 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Mr. Dodd, Pelly and Tim were making for 
the woods, to find their way to Nate’s be- 
leaguered stronghold. They dove into the 
woods at the thickest point, and never left 
the shelter of the trees until they arrived at the 
edge of the open land, wherein stood Nate’s 
house. Then they looked for picketers. 

Some of them were plainly visible on the 
slope below the house; the boys counted six 
of them. Two more were off to the left of 
the house, lolling under a bush; two were at 
the right. But where were the remaining two, 
of whom one was Rip? 

“ They must have gone back to the town,” 
whispered impetuous Pelly. 

“ They are about here somewhere,” replied 
more cautious Tim. “They ’re poking round.” 

“ Then if they are,” argued Pelly, “ we can’t 
stay here long, or perhaps they ’ll come upon 
us. We must sneak down to the house. There 
is that big bush; let’s just crawl to that. 
Then we can run across the open ground.” 

In a straight line between the boys and the 


The Picket 


207 


house was a large lilac clump, growing up 
thickly from the ground and giving good 
cover for any one desiring to hide behind it. 
Between it and the boys grew grass and scat- 
tered bushes of sweet fern, not tall enough 
for a man to hide in, but excellent for the 
_ boys. Through this, then, they started to 
make their way. If once they reached the 
lilac clump they would be nearer the house 
than any of the men, and a dash to the shed 
would be simple. As they crawled through 
the sweet fern, however, Pelly nudged Tim. 

“Excited?’’ he asked. 

“ No,” answered Tim. ’ “ Those fellows 
are n’t watching at all. It ’s too easy to 
sneak past them!” 

And after a few more wriggles, simple 
enough for them who had often played In- 
dians in the woods, they neared the lilac 
bush. Then Tim raised his head and sniffed. 
“ Tobacco smoke, and the men are too far 
away for theirs to come here.” 

“ Get to the bush,” answered Pelly. 


208 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


One last snake-like passage, twenty feet and 
more, and they reached the bush. Then both 
boys sniffed again. The tobacco smell was 
stronger. And then a voice came clearly 
from the other side of the bush. 

“ What ’s that? ” It was Johnny Bragin’s 
voice. 

“ Nothin’! What yer scared of? ” answered 
Rip McCook. 

The little boys’ hearts began furiously beat- 
ing. There was Rip within four feet of them, 
and only the bush between! They pressed 
themselves close to the ground, put their 
hands over their mouths, and controlling their 
breathing as well as they might, listened to 
what would be said next. If Johnny should 
get up to investigate, or Rip himself come, 
they would be caught. Then came Rip’s voice 
again, and they breathed more freely. 

“Quit bein’ scared, I tell yer! Nothin’ ’s 
cornin’ here, nothin’ at all.” 

“ But I heard something,” said Johnny, 
timidly. “ I know I did this time.” 


The Picket 


209 


“ Heard your granny! ” replied the unsym- 
pathetic Rip. “ Now you shut up, Johnny, 
and let me finish what I was sayin’. I tell you, 
this strike will bring old Dodd to his knees.” 

“Will it?” asked Johnny, not with any 
great enthusiasm. He was not able to picture 
very clearly Mr. Dodd upon his knees. But 
Rip could. 

“We ’ll get him down, I tell yer,” he went 
on. “ He ’s had his way in this town ever since 
he came, — brought money, built mills, gave 
the library, helps the poor. That ’s all so that 
people shall give him what he wants. Gets 
himself made selectman and magistrate, so he 
can interfere everywhere. Wants the town to 
spend money on roads, to keep two policemen 
’stead of one, and makes a lot of trouble 
whenever there ’s scarlet fever or anythin’ of 
that sort in the town, regulatin’ the way people 
live. None of his business! ” 

Pelly opened his eyes wide. He had never 
heard his father so spoken of before. Rip, 
in his career, went on. 

14 


210 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ When the schools were built he gave the 
grounds/’ he said. “ And why? So that the 
town would have to put up bigger buildin’s 
than they could on the old lot. And old 
Dodd made us spend lots and lots of money 
on plumbin’ — so the children should n’t be 
sick, he said. But I tell you he ’s got a 
brother in the plumbin’ business, and old 
Dodd made a peck of money out of the 
deal.” 

“Did he?” asked gaping Johnny. 

“ It ’s a lie! ” called Pelham, loudly. 

“Who’s that?” cried Rip, scrambling to 
his feet. 

He was startled by the sudden voice, and 
stood there pale and shaking when Pelly 
marched round and confronted him. “ It ’s 
a lie! ” said Pelly again, into Rip’s teeth. “ I 
haven’t got any uncle in the plumbing busi- 
ness, and my father’s the last man to make 
money in such a way ! ” 

“ Oh! ” said Rip. He looked for others to 
follow Pelham, but saw only Tim, and his 


The Picket 


211 


look of alarm changed to one of relief, and 
then of spite. 

“ Who ’s with you?” he asked, drawing a 
step nearer Pelly. 

“ Run, Pelly!” shrilled Tim, knowing Rip 
too well. At the instant Tim spoke, Rip 
leaped for Pelly. 

And missed. Pelham ducked, twisted, 
slipped from the arms that would have held 
him, and then at Tim’s side he raced for the 
house. Rip sprawled into the grass, but leaped 
up again with a stone in his hand; and Nate, 
roused by the boys’ voices, came to the door 
to see the flying figures, and Rip behind them 
just balancing to throw. 

“ Quit that!” Nate shouted. But Rip 
threw. The stone was heavy, but Rip was 
angry, and his throw was good. Yet it is 
seldom enough that stones go home, and this 
one whizzed past Pelham’s head only to 
thump against the shed. In a moment more 
the boys were in safety. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GIVING THE SLIP 

“’X TTCIOUS, that was! ” said Nate, look- 
V/ ing from the stone to the man who 
threw it. “Want some more green 
dye?” he called to Hip, and receiving only a 
scowl in answer Nate went again into the 
shed. 

“Will you tell me what’s up?” he asked 
of the boys. “What’s them fellers’ business 
on my land? ” 

“ Strike! You ’re picketed! ” they panted. 

“ Thought as much,” he said. “ Think to 
keep me in my own house, do they? ” And 
he laughed heartily. “Set down, boys, and 
get your breath, while I finish this.” 

They saw that he had been tying up his 
bolt of corduroy into a tight roll. First he 
put around it paper, and then burlap, and 


Giving the Slip 218 

then a rubber blanket, cording it carefully. 
And as he worked he talked. 

“ Saw them fellers first about an hour ago, 
— came up here and began lollin’ about. Rec- 
ognized some of them by the green spots on 
their clothes. Volger got enough, I guess. 
Leastways, I don’t see him about. They ain’t 
said nothin’ to me, nor I to them, hut I 
guessed pretty well what they was here for. 
And now what brings you?” 

They told him, and he puckered up his 
mouth into a whistle. “ Why, I ain’t never 
worked in a mill. Don’t know how it would 
seem.” 

“ But you ’ll come to oblige father? ” asked 
Pelham. 

“I’ll come to oblige your father, and to 
disoblige McCook,” answered Nate. “ Oh, 
yes, if there ’s to be any fun, I ’ll be there. 
But how ’s it to be done, even when the car- 
riage comes? I judge these fellers don’t 
mean we shall get away. Look at them there 
consultin’ ! ” 


214 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


The picketers had gathered below the house, 
and were talking earnestly together. “You 
see,” said Nate, “ they block the only way out. 
If it was just a matter of getthT ourselves 
away, boys, we could slip out the back door 
this minute, and over the side hill, and down 
through the woods, and they ’d never lay 
hands on us. But there ’s this eighty-pound 
bundle,” and he kicked his bolt of cloth, 
“ which won’t let us run fast, I reckon. It ’s 
got to go with us, and it ’s got to go on the 
buckboard.” 

He wheeled out of a corner the four- 
wheeled cart, home-made like everything of 
his, on which he always brought his cloth to 
the mill. It was made like a buckboard, — 
very strong, but light. “ It ’ll hold all three of 
us,” said Nate as he lashed the corduroy upon 
it. “ The grass has been cut, too, lately. If I 
could get those fellers out of the way for just 
two minutes, I ’d show them a trick or two.” 

“What grass has been cut?” asked Pelly. 
“And what if it has?” 


Giving the Slip 


215 


“ The grass in front,” answered Nate. 
“ Clear way to the road. I 'll show ye what 
I mean if ever I get a chance.” 

The boys looked down along the open space, 
from which the hay had only just been cleared 
away, and saw that Nate’s house seemed set 
at the upper end of a long lawn. Two hun- 
dred yards down the woods began, but all the 
way to them was an unbroken stretch of 
“mowing,” and just before the woods was a 
stone fence. In the fence was an opening 
leading, as the boys knew, to the hill road 
which ran down to the town, and by which 
Nate always brought his supplies. As the 
boys looked, suddenly they saw something 
moving on the road. 

“ There ’s the carriage! ” said Pelham. 

“ The men see it,” added Tim. 

At the opening of the fence appeared Mr. 
Dodd’s carriage, and the coachman drove it 
into the field, intending to go straight up to 
the house. Shouting and waving their hands, 
the strikers ran to meet it, and the first of 


216 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


them caught the horse by the rein. Others 
ran beside the coachman and shook their fists, 
and in another moment the carriage began to 
turn about. 

“He’s turning back!” cried Tim and 
Pelham. 

“ Now ’s our chance, boys! ” cried Nate sud- 
denly. “ Quick now, help me ! ” 

He drew the buckboard to the door, ran it 
out, and locked the door behind him. “ Yell 
once,” he said, “ and run with me! ” They all 
raised their voices in one yell, in which Nate’s 
note sounded triumphant. Then with surpris- 
ing speed he dragged the little buckboard 
across the front of the house and toward the 
woods, the very way he had said he could not 
go. “ What is he about? ” asked the boys of 
themselves; but they ran with him, and look- 
ing at the picketers, saw that they had left 
the coachman and were again running uphill. 
Nate had sqgie fifty yards to go before he 
reached the woods, and the men, instead of 
running straight up toward him, all ran to 


Giving the Slip 


217 


head him off. In among the bushes Nate 
dragged the buckboard, the boys following. 
To the men below it looked as if Nate hoped 
to get away by running straight through the 
woods. 

But when once inside the screen of bushes, 
and before he reached the trees, Nate turned 
abruptly uphill, and dragged the buckboard 
away from house, carriage, and picketers, 
parallel with the edge of the mowed land. 
The boys, running with him, and pushing 
whenever they could, were still more aston- 
ished. “ This is never the way to get to the 
town,” they thought. But Nate hurried all 
the faster, uphill and so close to the mowed 
land that at any moment he could dodge be- 
tween bushes into the open again. The clear- 
ing curved, and he ran with the curve of it, 
until after a minute he stopped. Looking 
between the bushes he could look down along 
the whole length of the “ mowing.” Nate 
slapped his thigh. 

“Done!” he exclaimed. 


218 Pelham and Plis Friend Tim 


The boys peered out into the open. Not a 
man was in sight! Every one of them had 
rushed into the woods, in the hope to stop the 
fugitives. 

In an instant more Nate had dragged the 
buckboard out upon the short grass. Then 
tilting its handles up against the front, he 
leaped aboard, seized the handles, and pointed 
the wheels downhill. “Now for a coast!” 
he cried. “ Start her, boys, and jump 
aboard ! ” 

They lost no time in marvelling, but took 
the idea and pushed. The buckboard started, 
and gathered headway at once. Tim sprang 
upon the bundle of corduroy, Pelham leaped 
on the end of the buckboard, and in a mo- 
ment the coast had begun. The hill was steep ; 
the wheels of the buckboard were large, and 
stopped for no hollows in the ground. Quickly 
they sped past the house; faster they went 
and faster, until they went swishing down 
through the “ mowing ” at a speed which 
would have left any pursuer far behind. 


' 



“ ‘ Gollv ! ’ said Tim, and caught his breath.” Page 219 






Giving the Slip 


219 


“ Golly! ” said Tim, and caught his breath. 

“ Gee! ” echoed Pelly, and held on. 

“Don’t make no noise!” cautioned Nate. 
“ We ’ll make the carriage yit! ” 

Then first they saw the whole of his plan, 
and in another minute witnessed the success 
of it. The coachman, turning to look back, 
saw them coming, and halted in the road. 
Nate, steering with perfect hand and eye, 
guided the buckboard straight down the field 
and into the rough road. The machine tilted, 
veered, and crashed into the bushes. Pelham 
was swept from his place, and Tim on top 
of him; Nate was sent sprawling among some 
little birches, and they came to a dead stop. 
With one impulse they scrambled to their feet 
and turned to see how close their pursuers were. 

But there were no pursuers! Across the 
clearing, in the farther woods, they heard 
distant calling and crashes in the undergrowth, 
but not a man was in the open. So quickly 
and silently had the coast been made that not 
one of the strikers had seen it. 


220 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“Quick!” called the coachman. 

Nate drew his knife, and in a moment had 
cut the lashings which held the corduroy. 
Seizing the light buckboard, he flung it far- 
ther into the bushes. “ Stay there till I want 
ye!” he said. “Come, boys!” With the 
corduroy in his arms, and the boys following, 
he ran to the carriage, they all sprang in, and 
in less than a minute, as they clattered down 
the steep road, the woods had swallowed them 
up. Rip and his companions still searched 
among the underbrush, but not a glimpse did 
they catch of Nate and the two boys. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE WORK AT THE MILL 

I T was nearly an hour before Rip McCook 
and his companions discovered how they 
had been tricked. After vainly and con- 
fusedly beating the bushes, they at last thought 
of looking for wheel marks, and so came finally 
upon the track across the field. In great dis- 
gust they returned to their homes, to learn that 
Nate, the boys, and the bolt of cloth had all 
safely arrived at the mill. 

Some of the men sympathized with the 
picketers, but some jeered, and the rest were 
silent. The strikers’ women folk had already 
expressed their opinion of the strike, from 
which they would suffer most; and the mar- 
ried men were already uncomfortable. It did 
no good to tell their wives that the strike 
“ would only last a day or two.” The wives 


222 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


were not so sure of that; and besides, the 
strike should never have been begun. 

But at the mill, even on that first afternoon, 
everything was cheerful, for work was going 
busily forward. When Nate reported at the 
office, Mr. Dodd sent him over to the dyeing- 
room, and crossing above the sluice where so 
recently his life had been risked, Nate pre- 
sented himself at Waters’ door. There he 
beheld the master-dyer busy among boxes and 
barrels of dye, weighing, ladling, and mixing. 
Waters paused to look at the figure in the 
doorway, and beheld Nate, who entered 
awkwardly. 

“ Seems ye need help,” said Nate. 

Waters grunted. “ I need a man that knows 
yellow from red. I suppose you ’ll do.” 

Nate understood him perfectly, and chuckled. 
“ My yellows may n’t be your yellows, nor even 
my reds your reds. Howsoever, they are yel- 
lows, and they are reds. When shall I go to 
work? ” 

“ Now,” answered Waters. “ There ’s the 


The Work at the Mill 


223 


dye-stuff, there ’s the cloth, and there ’s a 
jigger. Choose your own colors, and Pelham 
will help you. Tim ’s to help me. The boss 
and the rest will dry and finish.” Nate took 
off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and went 
to work. 

The strikers at first scoffed at the workers. 
There were only six grown men and five boys 
at work in the mill; the spinning and weaving 
mill was silent and empty; no cutting was 
done; and only the dye-rooms and the finish- 
ing-rooms were still busy, with not a third 
of their former force. The big wheel was 
stopped, most of the fires in the engine-room 
were drawn, and only two boilers were needed 
to turn the few machines which were still in 
use. “They can’t do much!” laughed the 
strikers. They failed to realize that Mr. 
Dodd did not want to do much. Little by 
little he could dye his bolts, and though the 
work might go faster, it went better than he 
had expected. 

Two days after the strike began, while the 


224 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


men were still waiting to be asked back to 
work, the news flew about that out-of-town 
workmen had arrived at the mill. “We ought 
to have picketed !” cried the strikers, and 
sought out the stage-driver, to find how many 
men had come. Only four, he told them, and 
they were reassured. Four workmen could 
not do much. Then the word was brought, 
by those who had been spying about the mill, 
that the newcomers were not mill-workers at 
all, but were taking down the great water- 
wheel. 

Taking down the great wheel! That wheel 
supplied so much of the power in the mill that 
nothing could be done without it. What was 
Mr. Dodd about? Next the men learned that 
the wheel was not only taken down; it was 
being broken up. What could Mr. Dodd be 
planning? The men’s curiosity was too much 
for them, and they waylaid the new men on 
their way to lunch. 

“What are you doing up at the mill?” 
asked Rip, as usual at the front. 


The Work at the Mill 


225 


“ We ’re taking out the old wheel and going 
to put in a turbine,” said the leader of the 
mechanics. “ Mr. Dodd says he ’s been want- 
ing one for years.” 

A turbine, some of the men knew, was a 
style of water-wheel which gave much more 
power. “ How long will it take? ” asked one 
of the married men, uncomfortable at the 
thought of what his wife would say to this 
piece of news. 

“ How long? ” asked the mechanic. “ Three 
weeks, I should say. Safe to call it a month.” 

A month ! So that was what Mr. Dodd had 
meant by his warning! Ordinary repairs could 
not take long, but without power the mill could 
not run, and a month’s idleness, a month with- 
out pay, suddenly stared the men in the face. 
Some of them, feeling almost sick, turned 
away blindly. 

But Rip persisted. “ See here,” he said to 
the foreman of the mechanics, “you fellers 
ought n’t to be working here when we ’re on 
strike.” 


15 


226 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“We have nothin’ to do with your strike, 
young feller,” answered the foreman, not over- 
kindly. “ Our union has nothin’ to do with 
yours.” 

“You ought to declare a sympathetic 
strike,” urged Rip. 

“Go along!” answered the city man. 
“ You ’re countrymen here, or you ’d never 
have gone into a strike without good prepa- 
ration.” And he and his men passed on. 

With him passed all the spirit, all the con- 
fidence, of the strikers. A month without 
work! Even the younger men looked glum 
at that; and as for the older, they thought 
of their wives and children, and called them- 
selves fools. What had they been thinking of? 

That evening, as Volger and the McCooks 
sat on the steps of their house, a number of 
the older men came to see them. Cudahy was 
at their head. “See here, Volger,” he said 
abruptly, “ it strikes me we ’re in trouble.” 

“What do you mean?” Volger asked. 

“ The mill ’s shut down for a month, that ’s 


The Work at the Mill 


227 


what I mean,” said Cudahy. “You said this 
strike would last only a week.” 

“ Don’t you worry about that water-wheel, 
if that ’s on your mind,” said Volger. “ The 
turbine ’s over at the railroad station, only 
seven miles, and I ’ve heard it ’s to be 
carted over here to-morrow. How do you 
know but in less than a week it will be in 
place at the mill, and the looms running 
again? I tell you old Dodd will knuckle 
under.” 

“ How about strike-pay from the union? ” 
asked Cudahy. 

“ Strike-pay never begins for a month,” 
answered Volger. “ That ’s in the rules.” 

“ How about help from the brotherhood, 
then? ” demanded Cudahy. 

“ That will come all right,” Volger assured 
him. 

“ Well, anyway,” said Cudahy, sturdily, “ I 
want you to see that it comes, and that our 
strike-pay comes too. We ’re beginning to 
think we ’ve been hasty about this ; and be- 


228 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


sides, it ’s the perfect truth that we don’t know 
anything about you.” 

Then Volger rose to his feet and delivered 
a speech. He could speak at any time, on 
any subject, with beautiful flowers of lan- 
guage. His feelings were, hurt, he said, at 
his friend Cudahy’s insinuations. True, he, 
Volger, was new in the town, but that should 
mean nothing against him. Had he not his 
work at stake? Had he not a reputation to 
lose? Would they cast him out because of 
mere suspicion? And having formed the 
union, laboring over it night and day, was he 
to be treated thus? Well, then, he could but 
leave them, go away elsewhere, and start life 
anew. He had supposed that, in this quiet 
valley, far removed from the selfishness of the 
city, he would be treated manly and openly. 
He was sadly disappointed. Did they wish 
him to resign? 

Most of them were melted by this time, 
and even Cudahy was sulkily repentant. 
“ Oh, come, Volger,” he said, “ I did n’t 


The Work at the Mill 


229 


mean all that. We don’t want you to 
resign.” 

Then Volger spoke again. It gave him 
courage, he said, to find he had misunder- 
stood. Then he would continue to lead them, 
and would lead to victory. What was there 
against them? Over in the mill were Mr. 
Dodd and a few men and boys (and among 
them Nate, the cause of all the trouble), 
working for dear life to fill a contract. Was 
it possible that men unused to work, and boys 
like those boys, could ever accomplish any- 
thing? Why, they had a criminal among 
them ! 

“ Who is that? ” asked one of the men. 

“ Never you mind,” answered Volger, darkly. 
“ But I can tell you that while my own 
conscience is clear, and can swear that your 
suspicions are baseless, one man at least has 
come to this town to escape his own past. 
One man in this town has a guilty secret, 
one man fears to feel the hand of justice on 
his shoulder, one man is nefariously helping 


230 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


our employers who should be behind prison 
bars.” 

“It’s either Waters or Nate,” remarked 
Cudahy. 

“ It ’s either Waters or Nate,” repeated 
Volger, solemnly. “ I ’m not saying which.” 

That was the end of his speech-making, for 
the men went away wondering what he meant, 
and he was left to himself. 

But he was not at ease. He did not feel so 
sure that the turbine would be in place and the 
strike at an end within a week. The men’s 
grumbling, and their hints that they had no 
security for the money that was in his hands, 
— how soon would these begin again, and 
how soon would the men demand to have the 
money handed over into their care? And it 
troubled him, — for some of the money was 
already spent! 

Volger, coming to the town with a city 
man’s tales to turn the heads of the work- 
men, had succeeded well. He had formed a 
union, he had got its money in his hands, and 


The. Work at the Mill 


231 


was held in much honor. The mistake he had 
made was in not opposing the idea of a strike. 
But he had brought the strike about partly 
because he believed it would succeed, partly 
because he had felt it difficult to abandon Rip 
McCook. The McCooks had taken him into 
their house and at once became intimate with 
him. Rip followed him devotedly; and Rip’s 
discharge had seemed to Volger a chance 
to secure his absolute obedience. Volger had 
helped on the strike, therefore, counting con- 
fidently that within a week he could say to 
the men: “ See, Mr. Dodd has begged our 
pardon, and now we own the town. Kindly 
remember that I ’m the one you should thank ! ” 
And to Rip he could say: “ But for me, Rip, 
you ’d have to go to some other town to earn 
your living, and how would you like that?” 
As a general benefactor, Volger’s position 
would then be secure. 

But he had counted without Mr. Dodd. 
Pelham’s father was a mild-spoken man, and 
Volger had never suspected him of having 


232 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


courage. Now that things had turned out as 
they had, now that the mill-wheel was gone 
and the turbine not ready to take its place, 
Volger did not exactly like his own position. 
He had spent some of the money, and he 
could not restore it. The “ brotherhood ” was 
an invention of his own. If this were dis- 
covered, he would be in real trouble. 

Rip, too, was uneasy, and presently came 
seeking Volger. “ I don’t feel quite right 
about this,” said Rip. “ Suppose the men 
should go back to work? All up with me, 
then, isn’t it ? ” 

“ I ’m afraid so,” agreed Volger. 

“ Can’t we make ’em mad with Mr. Dodd? ” 
asked Rip. “ Or can’t we make him so mad 
with them that he won’t take ’em back? ” 

“ How? ” asked Volger. 

“ Smashin’ things at the mill, — on the quiet, 
you know, — or something of that sort.” 

Volger stared at his companion. His own 
specialty lay in persuasion, in wheedling men 
beyond their better judgment, blinding their 


The. Work at the Mill 


233 


eyes and then picking their pockets. Rip, 
though younger, was far more quick to 
violence. The man that can throw stones 
at his younger brother is not going to 
hesitate at the destruction of property when 
under the influence of anger. “ Smashin’ 
things at the mill ” would come natural to 
him. 

So Volger stared at him. Quite in his usual 
fashion, the president of the union thought 
he saw a way to make Rip work for him. 
“Well,” said Volger, slowly, “if you could 
manage to do some damage, without any one 
knowing who did it, then Mr. Dodd might 
be mad enough to turn us all off and send for 
men from the city. And the men would never 
stand that.” 

“ Rut what could be done? ” asked Rip. 

“You know there ’s no watchman at the 
mill,” said Volger. “ He struck with the rest 
of us, and Mr. Dodd can’t keep close w r atch. 
A man with a hammer let loose in the weaving- 
room, or among the mules, could spoil some 


234 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


thousands worth of property in a mighty little 
time.” 

“ Well, then,” said Rip, looking him in the 
eye. 

“ Well, then,” said Volger, turning his head 
away, “ suppose you try it this evening? ” 

“Me? Smashin’ machines, alone!” cried 
Rip, in his surprise speaking louder than 
necessary. “ No, sir, you come with me.” 

“ My dear Rip,” answered Volger, who 
knew too much to do anything absolutely 
criminal, “ this is the kind of a job that one 
man can best do alone. You know every foot 
of the ground, you know every inch of the 
mills. I would only bring you into danger.” 

“Of course, I know the way better than 
you,” admitted Rip, weakly. And then Volger 
talked to him long and quietly and smoothly, 
until Rip agreed to go alone. 


CHAPTER XX 


IN THE CUTTING-ROOM 

H ALF an hour later Bridget McCook 
appeared at the mill, and knocked 
at the door of the dye-room. “ Who 
is there? ” asked a voice. 

“It’s me, Biddy!” she answered. “Tim, 
let me in! ” 

But when she had been admitted she saw 
only Tim and Pelly, but no men at all. 
“ Where ’s the men? ” she demanded. 

“ All at father’s house,” answered Pelly, 
proudly. “We ’re night watchmen until nine 
o’clock. We take turns with the others.” 

“ Oh, why did n’t they leave a man ! ” cried 
Biddy, wringing her hands. “ Before we 
know it half the looms will be spoiled. Rip 
planned to do it before darkness came, for 
he can’t use a light. He carried a hammer; 


236 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


he may be there now ! What shall we 
do?” 

“ Let ’s all go over into the mill,” proposed 
Pelham, boldly. 

“ He must n’t know I told on him,” an- 
swered Biddy. “ And he hates both you boys; 
he’d do you a hurt if .you went alone.” 

The two boys looked at each other, and 
each saw the determination in the other’s 
face. “We must go alone just the same, 
then,” replied Pelham. “ Biddy, you run 
and send here the first man you can trust. 
If you see no one, run to father’s. We ’ll 
go over and try to scare Rip off. I know 
a way.” 

“ Don’t let him get at ye! ” warned Biddy. 
“ Awful threats he breathes against ye. I ’ll 
be as quick as I can.” She slipped out the 
door, and the two boys, the one taking a 
wrench, the other a weight from the scales, 
which were the only weapons that lay handy, 
stole across to the mill in the early twilight. 
At its great black windows no face appeared, 


In the Cutting-Room 


237 


and all its office was silent when Pelly, with 
his father’s key, opened the door, and they 
stood there listening. They tiptoed inside. 
For a moment, while yet the door was open, 
they knew they could rush out; then Pelly 
closed the door softly, and they were shut up 
in the mill with Rip. 

It was all dusky there, and silent; let them 
but open the further door of the office, and 
the whole great mill, in which the doors were 
never shut except in case of fire, would lie 
before them. Somewhere in the mill, or try- 
ing somewhere to get in, was Rip, whose 
hammer, used vigorously for but a few min- 
utes, was able to ruin much of Mr. Dodd’s 
property. They must stop him, but Tim 
wondered how. 

“What shall we do?” he whispered to 
Pelly. 

Pelly ’s plan was simplicity itself. “ I want 
to turn on the lights,” he said. “ He won’t 
dare do a thing if the mill is lighted; people 
could see him from outside. But the switch 


238 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


is in the cutting-room, and we Ve got to go 
there. Ready? ” 

“ Ready,” answered Tim. In spite of him- 
self his voice shook. 

For the danger which hides itself in dark- 
ness is far greater than that which walks in 
the light. To enter the great gloomy mill, 
where behind any machine might be hiding the 
angry man who, baulked in his plan against 
property, might suddenly turn his hand 
against life, — to do this required all Tim’s 
courage. Tim knew Rip better than any one 
else, had seen his eyes flash with cruel spite, 
and even hatred, and believed that in a mo- 
ment of fury Rip would stop at nothing. 
Had he not thrown at Pelham that stone 
which, if it had hit, would have crippled for 
life? Pelham was daring and reckless; he 
took no second thought as he prepared to 
enter the mill. But Tim saw clearly all the 
consequences, and it took his whole courage 
to answer “ Ready,” and to follow his chum 
to the cutting-room door. 


In the Cutting-Room 


239 


Very quietly Pelham opened it, quietly they 
passed in, and quietly the door was closed be- 
hind them. Two doors shut them off from 
safety, and there they were among the ma- 
chines and the benches, in the dim light. 
They listened breathlessly, and there at the 
very first Tim thought he heard something 
near them. 

It was some one breathing — no, it was not. 
Did anything stir in that corner? Pshaw, it 
was nothing! Tim backed against the wall, 
his nervous fears ready to raise against him a 
legion of spectres, his hair rising under his 
hat, and his mouth already opening for a 
scream. Then with a great effort he mas- 
tered himself. “ Coward !” he told himself, 
and seeing Pelly take the first step, he 
followed. 

All was silence, silence, silence as they tip- 
toed the length of the room. Through the 
windows Tim saw the lights of houses, and 
knew that, so close as across the mill-park, 
people were carelessly chatting, while he here. 


240 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


with shaky grip, was clutching his scale-weight 
and searching the shadows for an enemy. 
Yet he saw nothing, and at last, at the end 
of the room, Pelham reached up and laid his 
hand upon the electric switch which controlled 
all the lights of the building, and which the 
boys, as a great privilege, were sometimes 
allowed to turn. All Tim’s fears fell away 
from him, and he drew a long breath of re- 
lief. Pelham turned the switch. 

Instantly the light sprang up, flashing from 
bulb to bulb, from room to room. For a 
moment the boys winked at its brilliance, as 
they looked at each other with delight. 
“Done!” exclaimed Pelham. “Now let’s 
get out.” They turned to go, and recoiled. 

From beside a cutting-bench rose Rip and 
faced them. Scowling and blinking, enraged 
at the discovery, his face had never yet ap- 
peared so evil. He raised his hammer and 
threatened the boys. “ Turn that light off, 
you little devil! ” 

All was open floor between them, and a 


In the Cutting-Room 


241 


heavy machine was at the boys’ backs; they 
were virtually shut up with Rip in a little 
triangular space. “ Turn off that light,” he 
repeated, “ or I ’ll smash you! ” 

Tim looked about and saw that he could not 
escape except by passing Rip, and the space 
was narrow. But Pelly took no such notice 
of their situation. It was his character to face 
a danger without measuring it, just as it was 
Tim’s to look first for the way out. Pelham, 
then, stepped boldly up to Rip. 

“Get out of this, Rip McCook!” he or- 
dered. “ We ’ve sent for my father, and he ’ll 
be here soon.” 

“ Cornin’, is he? ” snarled Rip. “ Then I ’ll 
do some smashin’ first, an’ I ’ll begin with your 
head! ” 

He stepped forward, and Pelham stood 
fairly under the upraised hammer. The boy’s 
face paled, but he still looked fearlessly into 
Rip’s. “Don’t you dare!” he said. 

“ Dare! ” sneered Rip. “ Dare! ” He raised 
the hammer higher. 


16 


242 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


And then a long steel blade, its point gleam- 
ing in the light, came over Felly’s shoulder and 
pointed straight at Rip’s breast. It pierced 
his clothes, and the point stopped against the 
skin. 

“ Stand still! ” said Tim. Rip, his face now 
yellow, stood like a statue, with his arm up- 
raised. “ Get a cutter, Pelly,” said Tim, and 
Pelly leaped for the wall. There in a rack 
were the cutters’ tools, like a row of fencer’s 
foils, and Pelham, seizing the nearest, came 
back to Tim’s side with a rush, the point of 
his tool so hastily thrust out that it pierced 
Rip’s skin. 

“ Ow! ” he yelled. 

“ Drop the hammer, then,” said Pelly. Rip 
dropped it. “ How did you get in? ” asked 
Pelly. 

“ Through the window,” Rip answered 
sulkily. 

“ Then get out of it as quick as you can,” 
directed Pelham. “ Let him go, Tim.” And 
both boys lowered the points of their weapons. 


In the Cutting-Room 


243 


Color came again into Rip’s face, and he 
put his hand to his side. “You Ve drawn the 
blood,” he said. “ I ’ll be even with you 
yet.” He moved sullenly around the ma- 
chines, toward the window. 

Then he, too, leaped for the wall, and from 
another rack seized a cutting-tool. “ Now,” 
he said, turning about. “Now we’ll see!” 

But Pelham, smiling oddly, reached for a 
rope that dangled from the ceiling. “ This 
is the fire- whistle,” he said. “ If I pull it, I ’ll 
have the whole town here in two minutes. 
You ’d better get out.” 

Rip cast the cutter down on the floor in a 
rage. “ Don’t you tell I ’ve been here,” he 
commanded. 

“ I ’ll tell what I please,” answered Pelham. 

“If you do,” threatened Rip, “ there ’s 
twenty of us have taken oath to fire the mill, 
and fire your father’s house, too. If you want 
your mother burnt out some fine night, you 
tell on me, that ’s all! ” 

For all his courage Pelham shuddered at 


244 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


the threat, and Rip leered triumphantly as he 
turned to the window. He climbed out clum- 
sily and dropped to the ground. But Pelham, 
taking courage, ran to the window and leaned 
out. “ Rip,” he called, “ listen. There is n’t 
any steam up. I could n’t have blown the 
whistle. Understand?” 

There was a snarl from the darkness, the 
whiz of a stone, and the window was shattered 
above their heads. But after their experience 
a broken window was nothing, and for very 
relief the two boys laughed together, until 
with a sudden catch of the breath Pelham 
remembered Rip’s threat. 

“ Would he burn the house? ” he asked Tim. 

“ He might,” answered Tim, gloomily. 

Then Mr. Dodd, and Bob, and Waters, and 
all the others, came bursting into the mill. 

“ Is all right? ” asked Mr. Dodd, relieved 
when he saw the boys safe. 

“ All right,” answered Pelham. “ Some- 
body broke a pane of glass, that ’s all.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


“ WATERMAN” 

44 X *X THAT ’S wrong with Pelly and 
\\ Tim, sir?” asked Bob of his 
father on the following morning. 
44 They must have seen Rip in the mill. We 
found them with cutting-tools in their hands, 
as if ready to fight, and a hammer was lying 
right there. But they won’t admit he was 
in the building.” 

44 1 don’t know,” answered Mr. Dodd. 
44 But I ’m not so sure I want to arrest Rip, 
anyway. It might look like persecution, and 
I don’t want to anger the men, because 
sooner or later they are bound to find him 
out themselves. And we can’t call his sister 
to testify against him, because we promised 
we would n’t. So we ’ll just let the matter 
drop.” 


246 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Up to noon of that day Rip McCook lived 
in fear of feeling the sheriff’s hand on his 
shoulder, but then Volger said to him: “ They 
can’t mean to arrest you. That is lucky.” 

Rip began at once to swagger and boast. 
“ I told ’em not to dare to tell on me. 
They ’ll let me alone.” And taking courage, 
he began to ask Volger what should be done 
next. 

“ I ’m not sure,” answered Volger. “ I 
think we ’d better wait a while.” 

“ But see here,” argued Rip. “ Do you see 
them working over at the mill, early and late, 
to get their dyeing finished? Are you going 
to leave them in peace? You said there was 
a criminal among them. Is he of use to 
them? ” 

“ The greatest use,” answered Volger. 

“ Then tell on him,” urged Rip. “ Get him 
arrested, and then he can’t work for them any 
more. It is Nate?” 

“ It ’s Waters,” said Volger. 

Rip’s eyes flashed. “ I hate him worse than 


rr Waterman ” 


247 


Nate. Come, tell me about it, and we ’ll see 
what can be done.” And the two consulted 
for a while together. 

In the meanwhile at the mill they had in- 
deed been working early and late. From six 
o’clock in the morning till seven at night was 
not hard for Waters and Nate, nor even for 
Tim, but the desk-workers and their sons were 
not used to it. Yet with true spirit they rose 
to the crisis, and day after day worked sturdily 
and well. Steadily the pile of undyed cloth 
was growing smaller, and as steadily the pile 
of finished bolts was growing larger. Four 
days more at the present rate, and the contract 
work would be finished on time. 

Bob Dodd was engineer, and with wrench 
and oil-can did dirty work all day. “ How do 
you like it? ” Pelly asked him one day with a 
grin. 

“ I tell you, Pelly,” answered his brother, 
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. 
I ’ve already found two ways for saving labor 
and money, and I ’m working on a new idea 


248 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


now, which may mean a good deal. This strike 
has been a good thing! ” 

And Mr. Dodd, who personally put the 
dyed bolts through the finishing process, had 
done the same as Bob. “ Are you worried, 
dear, or only tired?” his wife asked him one 
night. 

He looked up in surprise. “ Neither,” he 
answered. “ I was just thinking hard. I have 
really worked out an idea, Mary, that will 
simplify the whole process and will save thou- 
sands in the year.” 

With Mr. Dodd worked Mr. Spotts and his 
son Biff. The drying of the dyed cloth was 
done by Mr. Blair, Lawrence his son, and 
Arthur Dodd, and they worked hard and 
well. For these boys, old enough to appre- 
ciate their responsibility, the labor was light- 
ened by the deep interest they took in learning 
now the processes which they had expected 
would be denied them for years, and they 
delighted to be doers rather than mere lookers- 
on. Their feelings had besides been deeply 


" Waterman ” 


249 


hurt by the behavior of the village boys, who 
had refused to speak to the employers’ sons 
when they met them in the street. 

“ But we ’ll show them how to work! ” said 
Arthur, with determination. And he looked 
forward to the time when, the strike broken, 
the village boys would sue for peace again. 
He had been fond of them, — of Duck, and 
Curly, and the others; and all he wanted was 
for them to acknowledge a mistake, and to 
take up the old way of school, and play 
again. 

But in the dye-room, though Tim and 
Pelham had the same wishes, they did not 
look forward so confidently to the future. 
Pelham had a dread that Rip would carry out 
his threat of burning the house, and he was 
too much troubled to think of reconciliation. 
Besides, Pelly was a haughty little soul, and 
just as he would order Rip McCook from the 
mill, so also would he turn away from his 
former friends, if he believed them to be in 
the wrong. He was able to play by himself. 


250 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


and work by himself, without depending on 
the others. 

But Tim had the hardest position of all. 
He came from the working-class, and that 
class had turned against him. To them 
Waters was a “ scab,” he himself was also a 
4 4 scab,” and the boys did not hesitate to call 
the word after him when he passed them in 
the street. Nothing hurts the workingman 
like that word. It means traitor, it means 
coward, it means self-seeker. The striker’s 
feelings are so roused that he sees nothing 
but wrong in the man who will not strike, — 
sees no principle, no heroism, no self-sacrifice. 
Yet the workingman who raises his voice 
against a strike is brave; and the man who 
will not join a wrongful strike is more nearly 
a hero than the workman who, believing the 
strike to be wrong, nevertheless joins it for 
fear of what his comrades will say or do to 
him. There was here no dread of violence; 
but the flings of their former friends cut 
Waters, and cut Tim, very deeply. 


" Waterman ” 


251 


Therefore they worked together with a far 
different feeling from that which animated 
Nate and Pelham. The four worked in pairs, 
the boys pushing trucks, carrying water, and 
doing the simpler weighing and stirring ; 
while the men managed the machines, and 
hung with wrinkled brows over the cloth as 
they passed it in and out of the dyes. But 
while Nate cracked jokes over his jigger, and 
Pelham laughed and chatted (for in spite of 
the hard work all this was but a lark to them) , 
Waters was grimly silent, and Tim seldom 
smiled over their work. 

And at home they were very serious. In 
the group of houses where the workingmen 
lived there was not one that was open to them ; 
and of all the men and women, boys and girls, 
whom they met on the street, there was not 
one that would greet them. Some one would 
call “ Scab” from a window as they passed; 
and from a group at a corner would come the 
same hateful word. On coming home they 
would find a stone on their steps, or a tin can, 


252 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


or an old shoe, while for each such memento 
a dent in the door would show the energy with 
which the missile had been sent. As in old 
Concord town the patriots, whenever returning 
from shooting, would discharge their guns in 
the direction of the hill where dwelt Lee the 
Tory, so the strikers cast upon Waters’ steps 
anything that they wanted to get rid of, little 
caring whether or not they damaged his door. 
On returning at night Waters and Tim would 
find these silent reminders of dislike, and 
would enter very seriously. 

“ It ’s hard on you, Tim,” Waters said 
one day. “ I ’m getting along in years, and 
I learned long ago that man ’s a forget- 
ful animal, and a selfish one, and a violent 
one, too, when he ’s roused. But it ’s a 
little early in life for thee to be learning 
it all.” 

“ I don’t care, if only I ’m with you,” 
answered Tim. “ Rip and his father were 
selfish and violent enough for me, and I ’d 
rather stick by you. Only it is a little hard 


ff Waterman ” 


253 


to know you ’re in the right and to be dis- 
liked for it.” 

Waters patted him on the shoulder. “There 
come times when only a few can see the truth, 
and it takes the rest a long time to come 
round. But for thee I ’d be quite alone, 
and it ’s fine to have thee with me, Tim, my 
son.” 

“ I wish I were your son, really,” said Tim. 

“ You ’re getting to be,” Waters responded. 
“ Kinship could n’t draw us closer than this 
strike does. My boy that ’s dead has escaped 
much trouble; but I ’ve saved ’ee from some, 
and I ’ll save ’ee from more, if only we stick 
together.” 

“We will stick together, whatever comes!” 
cried Tim. And “ Whatever comes! ” Waters 
had echoed solemnly. 

Something was coming. That day Yolger, 
speaking at Rip’s urging, had begun to drop 
hints about the criminal who was helping Mr. 
Dodd. The New York police records of about 
eleven years ago could tell about him, and 


254 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


what he was wanted for. “ It ’s not for me 
to tell all about it,” said Volger, “ but it ’s a 
serious matter.” 

“Oh, speak up!” said Cudahy, who heard 
the talk. “ Give the man a name, and tell us 
the crime, too. Nodding and hinting won’t 
do any good.” Some of Volger ’s special 
supporters were inclined to resent Cudahy’s 
rough words, but he defended himself. “If 
it ’s a serious matter, as Volger says, let ’s 
treat it seriously, and not beat about the 
bush. We ’re not children. Who was it, 
anyway. Nate?” 

“ It was Waters,” answered Rip, trium- 
phantly. 

“Waters!” repeated Cudahy, somewhat 
shocked. “ Why, he ’s the most respectable 
man in town.” 

“Respectable!” cried Volger. “Yes, so 
does crime disguise itself.” 

“ He ’s a scab ! ” cried the listeners. 

“ So he is,” agreed Cudahy, who for a 
moment had been thinking of Waters as his 


" Waterman ” 


2 55 


old friend, “ So he is. But give his crime 
a name. Was it stealing ?” 

“ No,” answered Volger, with the air of 
saying, Worse! 

“Arson? Assault and battery?” asked 
Cudahy. 

“ All I ’ll tell you is this,” said Volger. 
“ When he left New York city in a hurry he 
was running for his life.” 

“ His life! ” cried Cudahy, completely taken 
aback. “ Running for his life? That means 
he committed murder! ” 

“ Make your own conclusions,” said Volger, 
about to move away. 

“ Hold on! ” cried Cudahy. “ You ’ve said 
either too much or too little. Was Waters 
wanted for murder, or was he not? Tell me 
that!” 

“ He was! ” answered Volger, triumphantly, 
and a low “ Oh-h! ” ran among the listeners. 
Murder ! 

“ I ’ll tell you more,” went on Volger, 
pleased at the sensation he had created. “ His 


256 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


name isn’t Waters, either. It’s Waterman. 
Let some of you go and call him that, and 
see what he ’ll do.” 

“We’ll go!” cried some, Rip first of all. 
They dashed off to find him. 

Thus it happened that Tim and Waters had 
given each other the pledge to stick together 
only just before trouble came. They had 
had their supper, and, weary enough, had 
gone outdoors to sit upon the steps, for 
no one was in sight upon the street, and 
the coolness tempted them to run the risk 
of hard words from neighbors who might 
pass. 

“ Tell me about your son,” Tim asked 
Waters. “How did he die?” 

“ It ’s little enough I can tell ’ee,” Waters 
answered. “ I was away from home, and was 
hurt in an accident, and my wife thought me 
dead, I suppose, for the poor thing didn’t 
know what had become of me. The shock 
of it made her sick, and working for her 
livin’ killed her, and the baby too, I suppose. 


" Waterman ” 


2 57 


When I got out of hospital, where nobody 
had known my name, I searched after her 
from tenement to tenement — and New York 
is a bad place to find a body in — until I 
found where she ’d died. She was buried, 
and the baby with her, — and I have n’t been 
near a city since. That was eleven years 
ago.” 

“Too bad!” murmured Tim, caressing 
Waters’ hand. The man was responding to 
the caress with pleasure, when suddenly Tim’s 
expression changed. “ There ’s Rip coming, 
and some others,” he said. “ Let ’s go 
indoors ! ” 

But Waters did not move. “ Don’t budge,” 
he said. “ Let them not think we ’re afraid 
of them. Words don’t kill.” 

Rip and his followers came nearer till they 
halted at the fence, which was only a few 
yards away. Waters looked at them calmly; 
but Tim quailed, with the feeling of dread 
which he could not repress in Rip’s pres- 
ence, from old unkindness’ sake. He saw 
17 


258 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


that Rip had come on purpose to badger 
them. Standing in the gateway, Rip bowed 
low. 

“ Good-evening, Mr. — Waterman ! " 

At his side Tim felt Waters stiffen. He 
looked up, and his guardian’s face was pale. 
Waters’ eyes shot fire at Rip, and then at the 
others, who repeated in chorus': 

“ Good-evening, Mr. — Waterman ! ” 

“That’s not his name!” cried Tim, in- 
dignant because Waters, as he supposed, was 
angry. But Waters pressed his arm. 

“ Let them talk,” he said. 

“ Oh, that ’s not his name? ” cried Rip, de- 
lighted at the response. “ How do you know, 
you young scab? Then what is his name? ” 

“What is his name?” asked all the others. 
But now Tim sat silent. 

“ Perhaps the police could find out his name 
for us,” cried Rip, in high feather. “ Could 
they, Mr. Waterman?” 

“ Could they, Mr. Waterman? ” chanted his 
chorus. 


“ Waterman " 


259 


“ Perhaps we could ask them to try,” sug- 
gested Rip, watching Waters’ white face. 
“ Sha’n’t we ask them, Mr. Waterman? ” 

“Shan’t we, Mr. Waterman?” came his 
echo. 

But the color began to come back to Waters’ 
face, and with iron self-control he sat silent. 
Not a word did he answer to the taunts of 
the strikers, and not a word to their threats. 
He sat like a statue, until at last the only part 
of him which moved, his eye, began to im- 
press them. It studied them, made them 
uneasy, and at last shamed them. They 
could make nothing out of him, and finally, 
uneasy before the quiet eye which stared them 
down, they went away, shouting back one last 
threat : 

“We ’ll set the police to find out about it, 
Mr. — Waterman ! ” 

Waters watched them till they turned the 
corner, and were gone. Not till then, after 
that first quiver, did he move, but when they 
were gone his whole body shook, his face 


260 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


paled again, and he dropped his head into his 
hands. 

“ What is it? ” cried Tim, clutching his arm 
in fright. “What is it?” 

“ Trouble, lad! ” answered Waters between 
his hands. 


CHAPTER XXII 


CONFESSION 

I T seemed to Tim that, after those mys- 
terious taunts of Rip and his followers, 
Waters was a changed man. The strike 
had already made him serious, but now he 
was by turns sad and worried. He spoke less 
to the boy, but oftener to himself, and once 
Tim heard him say, “ How did they know? ” 
Then immediately he added: “ How much 
more do they know? ” And that very night 
he said to Tim: 

“ This is harder than the strike, my lad.” 
And yet, in spite of his absent fits, he was 
kinder to the boy than ever, spoke to him 
more gently, looked at him affectionately and 
almost yearningly, and took more pains in 
telling him how the dyes were made. For 
up to now each day at the mill had been for 


262 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Tim a series of lessons in dye-making, and 
Waters had made running remarks upon 
quantities and qualities, until Tim’s head was 
full of tourmaline and madder, fustick and 
logwood, pounds, ounces, quarts, and gallons. 
How to dye upon dyes, how to use the mor- 
dant, and when not to use it, — Tim had lis- 
tened to the precepts until it seemed to the 
others as if his little brain would whirl with 
them. And Pelham had asked when they 
were alone: 

“ Tim, do you remember any of what he 
tells you? ” 

“ I remember most of it,” Tim had an- 
answered earnestly. “ Honestly I do, Pelly. 
I — I just love to learn it, it ’s so wonderful.” 

But it was not only the rules of dyeing 
which Waters had taught to Tim. He tried 
to teach him the unteachable, not by rule and 
precept, but by seeing. He would call the 
lad to the dye-tank, when the mixture was 
almost made, and would point to the liquid, 
which to ordinary eyes was uninteresting or 


Confession 


263 


even unpleasant. But Tim would hang over 
the strange mess, and try to see in it all that 
Waters saw. 

“ Remember what we ’re working for,” 
Waters would say. “An olive green, — the 
real olive, Tim. Ye must see the yellow in 
it, feel it, sense it. A little more of the ochre, 
lad, and stir it well. A little more, — just a 
pinch more. Now canst see the bloom of it? ” 

“I can! I can!” Tim would cry in ex- 
citement. 

“ ’T is done! ” Waters would say with great 
satisfaction. “ In with the cloth, then.” 

It was a great joy to him that the boy was 
so quick to learn. Pelham was quick; Nate 
called him a “ mighty spry helper,” but the 
lad was no more remarkable than any other 
bright boy that had passed under Waters’ 
hands. Tim was something apart. Of all 
the apprentices that the master-dyer had 
taught, no one had begun so young as Tim, 
and no one had been so wise in the craft, who 
seemed to grasp the deeper secrets of it, to 


264 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


understand it almost by instinct, — in a word, 
to have the sense of it. Waters was slow to 
praise, and he had not yet said to Tim half 
of what he thought ; but time and again, since 
the strike began, had he said to himself with 
delight: “ Tim is a dyer born! I ’ll teach him 
all I know, and he ’ll be better at it than I ! ” 
Such was the man’s unselfish enthusiasm over 
the skill of his ward. 

But now all was changed suddenly by Rip’s 
latest taunt. In their life together Tim had 
caught from Waters a joyous hope of the 
future, of a life spent happily in the same 
work. But now, on the very first day, Tim 
felt with alarm that Waters seemed bidding 
farewell to it all, and as if he were giving his 
last lessons in the art they both loved. 

“Don’t ’ee forget, now,” he said, “just 
how the dye looked for the dark rose. Keep 
that tint apart from all the rest in your mind, 
Tim; it ’s a specialty of mine, and the stuffs 
run so different you can never make it en- 
tirely from rule, — you have to fuss till you 


Confession 


265 


get it, but it ’s worth the fussing. The great 
thing is to remember how ye once got a color, 
so don’t forget the dark rose, boy.” 

He showed Tim particularly that day how 
to make another of his special colors, which 
in his secret heart Waters considered superior 
to anything that Nate ever made. It was a 
royal purple of superb richness. “ I had n’t 
meant to bother thee with this yet awhile, 
lad,” he said, “ but just try to remember it. 
It ’s — it ’s one of my best.” 

Tim heard a catch in Waters’ voice, and 
looked up quickly. “ Is anything wrong? ” 
he asked. 

“ Nothing, lad,” answered Waters, recover- 
ing himself with great self-control. “ Tend to 
the dye, now, and remember what I tell ’ee.” 
After that he spoke cheerfully, but Tim could 
not cast off the feeling that Waters was say- 
ing good-bye to his work. Tim did his best 
to make his guardian forget himself; he 
laughed, he chatted, he worked most actively, 
but all to no purpose. 


266 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


At noon of that day the little working force 
went outside the mill and sat down in the 
shade, there to enjoy the excellent lunch which 
every day was sent from Mr. Dodd’s house, 
and in which Waters, Nate, and Tim always 
shared. It was to the workingmen very much 
of a privilege to eat with their employers, not 
because the food was better than ordinary, but 
because the feeling of companionship was so 
strong. The talk was always of the work, — 
its details, the methods of improvement, and 
especially whether the contract work would 
be finished on time. And whenever that ques- 
tion came up Tim and Pelham felt important, 
bcause everything depended upon the dyers. 

This day, as they sat eating in the shade, 
some of the strikers gathered at a distance, 
and began to hoot unintelligible sounds. 
“ That is strange,” said Mr. Dodd. “ They 
never shouted at us before. And what are 
they saying? Watertown? Watertown? At 
any rate, it ’s one word over and over again.” 

Others guessed at what the strikers were 


Confession 


267 


saying, and guessed in vain, all but Tim and 
Waters. They alone knew the word, “ Water- 
man! Waterman!” But they said nothing 
about it, although Tim turned pale and looked 
at his guardian, and Waters, growing red, 
looked straight ahead of him, as if he saw 
nothing. But when they were at work again, 
having allowed themselves but a half-hour for 
lunch, Tim saw that Waters was more ab- 
sorbed than ever, while he spoke with a kind- 
lier and yet sadder voice. 

That evening at closing-time Mr. Dodd, as 
usual, came to the dye-room to see how the 
work was coming on. “ How are you making 
out? ” he asked. 

Nate grinned at him. “ I don’t s’pose I 
can ever git used to seein’ you in overalls, 
Mr. Dodd. — We’re cornin’ out all right, I 
guess, since we ’re keepin’ to the same pace. 
We ’ll jest about squeeze through, an’ that ’s 
all.” 

“Good!” said Mr. Dodd, heartily. “And 
do you think so too, Waters?” 


268 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ I think so,” said Waters without a smile. 

“ You ’re not working too hard, are you? ” 
asked Mr. Dodd, anxiously. “ You must n’t 
hurt yourself, Waters, with these long hours.” 

“ I ’ve got something on my mind, that ’s 
all,” replied the dyer. “ Don’t worry about 
my health, Mr. Dodd. And we ’ll get through 
with the work all right — if I’m spared to 
it.” But these last words he uttered under 
his breath, and only Tim heard them. 

Then, looking down, he caught the boy’s 
eye. Mr. Dodd had turned to Pelly, and 
Waters put his hand on Tim’s shoulder. 
“ Don’t look so troubled, lad,” he said. 
“ Come home wi’ me, and I ’ll tell ’ee all 
about it, for I ’ve got to tell some one.” 

When they were at home, and their supper 
eaten, he led Tim out upon the steps again. 
“ Nay,” he said, as Tim hung back, “ come 
along, and never mind what may be said to 
us. I ’ll soon have to appear for what I am.” 

They sat down upon the steps together, and 
Waters, putting his hand upon Tim’s shoulder, 


Confession 


269 


found the lad trembling with anxiety. “ It ’s 
been hard on thee,” he said. “ I could n’t tell 
thee about it at the very first. It came upon 
me sudden like, and I had to think it over. 
But I ’ll tell the worst of it in a breath, Tim. 
I — killed a man. — Do ’ee shrink from me, 
boy? ” 

For Tim had shrunk back in surprise. But 
hearing the sudden distress in Waters’ voice, 
the lad flung himself into his arms. “ No, 
no! ” he cried. “ I ’ll stand by you always! ” 

“My own lad!” murmured Waters, clasp- 
ing him close. For a moment they embraced, 
and all the love of a lonely boy, and all the 
yearning of a bereaved man, were expressed 
in little broken murmurs and in their clasping 
arms. Then Waters put Tim gently beside 
him again. 

“ I ’m no murderer, Tim,” he said, “ though 
the law may hold me so. I struck in self- 
defence, and the Lord knows how I felt when 
I saw him lying at my feet. But, like a fool, I 
did not wait to give myself up to the police. 


270 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


I ’d been married only a year, and I wanted 
once more to kiss thy mother and thee, — ah, 
lad, see what I’ve said! It’s come over me 
stronger and stronger, as if thou art really 
my son, — my own son that I lost so long 
ago!” 

“ Think of me so! ” begged Tim. “ Think 
of me so, and call me your son, now that 
you ’ve told me this! ” 

“ Then for the rest of the time I will,” 
agreed Waters, “ till we part for good.” 

“ Part? ” cried Tim. 

Waters quieted him by a smile. “ Let me 
tell ’ee the whole story,” he said, “ and then 
we ’ll talk about the future. — I ran away to 
kiss my wife and child,” he said. “ I was in 
New York. I took the ferry to Brooklyn, and 
there was a collision. Some were drowned, hut 
I waked up after a month in a hospital, where 
no one knew my name. Still possessed by the 
idea to see my wif e once more, — though the 
police would have let her see me, Tim, had I 
only thought of that, — I gave the wrong 


Confession 


271 


name, and when they let me out, a fortnight 
later, I searched for my wife again. I Ve told 
’ee the story, but not all of it. She ’d been 
turned out in Brooklyn for want of money, 
but I found a man I could trust, and he 
traced her for me. She ’d died, he told me 
at last ; she ’d been buried with her baby, and 
my heart was nigh broken. And then I did n’t 
know what to do. But I did n’t want to die, 
Tim, and the police hadn’t found me, so I 
came away here and began a new life. It has 
all gone well till now, but they do say ‘ Murder 
will out.’ Volger, he must have seen me in the 
old days, and remembered me, though I don’t 
remember him. — Say you don’t blame me, 
lad.” 

“ I? ” cried Tim. “ I could n’t blame you! ” 

“ Thankee, lad,” said Waters. “ I shall 
remember that where I ’m going.” He saw 
the look of alarm in Tim’s eyes, and added: 
“ Prison, lad.” 

“ Oh! ” cried Tim, catching his hand. 

“ Now, listen,” commanded Waters, firmly. 


272 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ I ’ve got a duty to fulfill to Mr. Dodd here. 
He must fill his contract, and justice can wait 
till then, it ’s waited so long already. If only 
Volger and his crowd will spare me for three 
days more, I ’ll still work at the mill. Then 
I ’ll give myself up. But — they may arrest 
me first.” 

“ Run away from it,” urged Tim. “ Run 
away again.” 

Waters shook his head. “ Guilt will follow 
me wherever I go. It ’s hung over me all 
these years; now I ’ll go and take my punish- 
ment. — But I want to speak of the dyeing, 
Tim, in case I ’m taken before the work is 
done.” 

“ Who ’ll finish the work? ” asked Tim. 

“You must!” answered Waters, firmly. 
“ Never look like that. Nate can’t do it all 
without four eyes and two sets of hands, and 
he ’ll never grow them in time. You must do 
it, Tim.” 

The lad shook his head helplessly. “ I 
couldn’t,” he said. 


Confession 


273 


“ You must,” said Waters. 44 — Only it may 
never happen, so we ’ll say no more of it, ex- 
cept that you can do it if you try.” Then he 
caught the boy suddenly to him. “ Oh, Tim,” 
he cried, “ it ’s hard on me to leave ’ee, but 
anyway I ’ve had ’ee for a while. Don’t for- 
get me, lad! ” 

“ Never,” answered Tim, his tears flowing. 
4 4 Never, father! ” 

44 Call me that and I’ll bear anything!” 
was Waters’ response. So as father and son 
they went to bed that night, and never again 
called each other by other names. 


18 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE ARREST 

I N the morning they went to their work as 
usual, but on the street they were waylaid 
and followed by Rip and his set, who 
chanted “ Waterman ” after them until they 
were safely inside the mill. At the first sight 
of them Tim took Waters’ hand, and he held 
it until they reached the mill, when he gave a 
sigh of relief. 

“ That ’s nothing, lad,” said Waters. “If 
they do no more than call names I ’m well 
pleased.” 

He took great pains with Tim that morn- 
ing, explaining formulas, and showing him 
every step in the processes, and especially 
pointing out to him those subtle differences 
in the dyes made by a bit more, or a bit less, 
of this material or that. Once he laid his 


The Arrest 


275 


hand on Tim’s shoulder and said: “All, lad, 
I meant to have taught ’ee this through many 
a year,” and at his words and tone Tim was 
suddenly blinded by tears. When noon came 
Waters said with a sigh of relief: 

“ One more half day gone.” 

At lunch the distant picket of Rip and his 
friends gathered again and shouted their war- 
cry, until Air. Dodd was again set wondering 
what they said. He asked, “ Can any one tell 
me what it is? ” 

“ They ’re saying ‘ Waterman,’ sir,” an- 
swered Waters, composedly. “ ’T is a name 
they have for me.” His face was not red 
now, and his manner was very quiet. He 
even smiled at Tim, and the boy understood 
that since telling his story Waters felt that 
the burden was off his mind. He had 
chosen his course, and would finish his work 
if fate permitted. Otherwise he would go 
to prison if he were called, and go with good 
courage. 

Fate decided against him. They had not 


276 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


finished a half-hour of the afternoon’s work, 
when they heard a clamor in the mill-yard, 
and looking out, saw strangers there. Drop- 
ping his work, Pelham rushed to the window 
at once, and the others stood in their places 
and watched. 

“ On my soul! ” exclaimed Nate. “ There ’s 
Rip McCook, and he ’s got the constable with 
him; and all of ’em argifying with Bob and 
Mr. Dodd. They ’re cornin’ here ! ” 

Through the window they heard Bob’s voice. 
“ This is no place for you, Rip.” 

“ I tell you I ’m coming to point out a 
criminal,” squalled Rip, between defiance and 
fear. “Don’t you lay hand on me! The law 
won’t allow it.” 

Tim felt his knees weaken beneath him, and 
they shook with fright. He looked at Waters, 
and found him perfectly calm. 

“ Lad,” said the dye-master, “ finish this up 
right ; the madder ’s all measured out to go 
in. Only half the quantity of water at first; 
then pour in the rest. And take this.” 


The Arrest 


277 


He put his hand in his pocket and drew 
out a piece of paper, which he put into Tim’s 
hand. “ ’T will tell ’ee what colors to dye the 
rest of the bolts, but thee must do the mixin’ 
thysel’. Remember, it must be done ! They ’re 
special orders. Good-bye, lad.” 

“ G-good-bye,” gulped Tim. They shook 
hands like men. Then the door opened sud- 
denly, and the constable pushed in, followed 
by Rip, who, exulting in his errand, and yet 
afraid of the dogged Bob, who followed him 
closely, fairly yelled as he saw Waters. 

“ There he is! ” he cried, pointing a shaking 
forefinger. “ I give him in charge. Arrest 
him! Arrest him!” 

The constable started toward Waters, but 
Mr. Dodd interposed. “ Your warrant first,” 
he said. “ What is the charge? ” 

“ Murder,” said the constable, shortly, giv- 
ing Mr. Dodd the warrant. 

“Murder!” cried the others, instinctively 
drawing back. 

“Yes, murder!” shouted Rip in triumph. 


278 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“Now aren’t you proud of him? Hadn’t 
Tim better stayed with us? ” 

His further remarks were cut short by a 
hand on the back of his neck, and by fingers 
which pressed with force on the lean sinews. 
Kip gave one yelp of fear, and recognizing 
Bob’s clutch, was silent. 

“ Has he done what he came for? ” asked 
Bob of the constable. 

“ He has,” was the answer, and the official 
tried not to see the connection between Bob’s 
hand and Rip’s neck. 

“ Then he may as well leave,” said Bob. 
He whirled Rip around at arm’s length, and 
propelled him toward the door so rapidly that 
Rip, striving to keep his balance, seemed to 
be running airily upon his toes. “ Good-bye, 
Rip,” said Bob cheerfully at the door, and 
gave one push. Rip shot out into the mill- 
yard. Make his legs twinkle as he might, 
they could not keep up with the upper part 
of his body, to which the chief impetus was 
given. The head, therefore, and the flapping 


The Arrest 


279 


arms, of which Pelham got a joyous glimpse, 
so much outdistanced the legs that Rip plunged 
forward much as a schoolboy does at his first 
dive. But no gentle element received the hap- 
less Rip. The mill-yard was packed gravel, 
nothing else, upon which neither the skin of 
his nose nor the palms of his hands made any 
impression. Pelham, dancing with happiness, 
distinguished the two tremendous slaps which 
Rip gave his mother earth, and saw him en- 
deavoring to butt his way through to China. 
Then Bob closed the door, and the rest was 
lost; but Pelham’s delight was exquisite. 

Yet no one else smiled, not even Bob him- 
self, whose grim satisfaction instantly gave 
way to alarm for Waters. Mr. Dodd, who 
had glanced hastily at the warrant, and seen 
that it was in proper form, was question- 
ing the dyer. “ Waters, what is all this 
about? ” 

“ The truth, sir,” answered Waters, calmly. 
“ I did kill a man, and they *ve found me out 
here at last. I ’ll have to go with him.” 


280 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


There was dead silence for a moment, as 
those present took in the meaning of the 
dyer’s words. Then Mr. Dodd said, huskily, 
“ Yes, you ’ll have to go.” 

“ Don’t handcuff me!” cried Waters, 
hoarsely, as he saw the constable draw the 
handcuffs from his pocket. “You must? 
Then here ! ” And drawing himself up like 
a soldier, Waters held out his hands for the 
irons. 

“Oh, father! father!” cried Tim, rushing 
at him, and Waters, instantly stooping, caught 
him. No one interrupted their embrace, but 
all stood, with tears in their eyes, until Waters 
himself brought it to an end. 

“ There, there, my son,” he whispered at 
length. “ I must go. Now remember, and 
work.” Then rising once more, he held out 
his wrists again, and allowed himself to be 
handcuffed. 

“ I ’m sorry,” mumbled the constable, when 
it was done. 

“ And I ’m sorry,” said Mr. Dodd also. 


The Arrest 


281 


4 4 Waters, I ’ll see that you have good treat- 
ment.” 

44 Thankee, sir,” answered Waters, bravely. 
44 But what I most ask is that ye look after 
the boy. He ’s got no one now.” 

44 He ’ll go home with us,” cried Pelham, 
quickly. Waters questioned Mr. Dodd with 
his eyes anxiously, but his employer nodded. 

44 1 ’ll look after him,” he said. 

44 Then I ’m satisfied,” said Waters, with a 
great sigh of relief. 44 All ready, constable.” 
The two went to the door, and the others fol- 
lowed them out into the mill-yard. All the 
work of the little company was stopped, and 
they gathered there to watch Waters go away, 
and to discuss the blow which his loss was to 
them. 

44 It ’s — it ’s astonishing,” said Mr. Dodd, 
shaking his head. 44 1 never was more sur- 
prised. He ’s a good workman, and I will 
do all I can for him. But it ’s a severe loss 
to us.” 

44 What can we do, sir? ” asked Bob. 


282 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“Nothing,” answered Mr. Dodd. “We 
cannot get out the cloth on time. I never 
failed to fill a contract before,” and his voice 
almost faltered, so dear to him was his 
record, “ but without another dyer the thing ’s 
impossible.” 

“ Send for one,” suggested Mr. Spotts. 

“ No,” said Mr. Dodd, firmly. “ Our trade 
secrets are worth everything to us, and I ’ll 
have no stranger at the dyeing-rooms. We ’ll 
be but a few days behind; the fault is none 
of mine, and we shall be excused for the 
delay.” Then his mind went back to Waters. 
“ He must have expected it,” he said. “ He 
gave me some money last night, and his 
savings-bank book. It was for me to keep 
for the boy, he said.” 

“ Where is Tim? ” asked Pelham, suddenly. 

Tim was not there, no one had seen him 
go with Waters, and they went together to 
look for him in the dye-room, expecting to 
find him weeping in a corner. 

But there stood Tim at his machine, care- 


The Arrest 


283 


fully measuring the water as he poured it into 
the tank. He looked at Nate reproachfully. 
“ You ’re wasting time,” he said. 

“ Good Lord! ” breathed Nate, and sprang 
to his jigger. 

“ Tim,” cried Mr. Dodd, “ you never can 
do this work yourself!” 

To Tim’s face came the determined look 
which only Pelham had ever seen there. “ I 
can try,” he said. “Father said I must.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE NEW DYER 

O UR story has for some time had little 
to do with McCook senior, and even 
now it is no more concerned with him 
than to relate the taunts which he heaped upon 
his son Rip. “ You ’ve failed again! ” he cried, 
shaking his finger in front of Rip’s plastered 
nose. “ Got the man arrested, and got your 
nose skinned, and they ’re going on dyeing 
just the same at the mill, and Tim ’ s doin' the 
work ! ” 

“ He ’s not! ” cried Rip, furiously. 

“ He is that! ” replied McCook. “ They ’re 
boastin’ it all over the town.” He shook his 
fist this time. “ An’ that ’s the boy ye drove 
out of my house, to go and take his earnings 
elsewhere ! ” 


The New Dyer 


285 


“ I drove him out of your house? ” sneered 
Rip. “If ever anyone gave cause for a boy 
to run away, it ’s yourself. Have n’t I seen 
you beat him, and — ” 

“ Anyway, you ’ve not stopped them workin’ 
at the mill,” insisted McCook, changing the 
subject. “ An’ what ’s to become of this strike 
of a week, I ’d like to know, that ’s lasted ten 
days already? An’ me drawin’ on my savin’s 
so soon! ” 

“ All you think of is money,” snarled Rip. 

“ All you think of is mischief,” growled his 
elder. “ A mighty mess you ’ve made of it 
now! How are you going to make Mr. Dodd 
call us back? Will you burn the mill?” 

“Yes!” snarled Rip, “I’ll burn the mill, 
or blow it up, or do something, rather than 
be beat. A nice fix I ’d be in, losin’ my place 
at the mill, and no way to earn money. But 
you don’t care for me, so long ’s you ’re all 
right.” 

And he flung out of the house in a storm 
of anger and terror. He had (thanks to Bob 


286 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Dodd) missed the exquisite pleasure of yelling 
taunts after Waters on his way to prison, and 
he had done himself and the strikers no good 
by betraying the dye-master, for here was that 
wretched Tim doing all the work and saving 
Mr. Dodd his contract. As his friends fre- 
quently reminded Rip, the turbine had not yet 
arrived, and although its bearings were all 
ready for it, and its connections with the mill 
already made, there was no knowing when it 
would come, — for Volger’s statement that the 
turbine was at the railroad station was either 
a mistake or a pure invention. 

And now it was Rip’s own friends who 
reminded him of this, — the friends who once 
had gloated over trouble. The fact was that 
they cared chiefly for mischief, but little for 
hardship, and still less for crime. There was 
not one of them, he thought with disgust, 
whom he would have trusted to go with him 
to the mill on his loom-smashing expedition. 
There was not one of them who could be 
depended on to fight the strike through to the 


The New Dyer 


287 


bitter end, “ For they can go back to work,” 
thought Rip, angrily, “ but I can’t, unless 
Mr. Dodd gives in.” While the older men 
were openly ready to go back to work, the 
younger were wavering. “ Cowards every 
one,” thought Rip. 

And next he came to words with Volger 
himself. The older man sought Rip out and 
accused him abruptly. “ You got Waters 
arrested all yourself,” he said. “ Why did n’t 
you tell me of it first? ” 

“ I meant it for a surprise,” faltered 
Rip. 

“ You ’ll have a surprise yourself some of 
these days,” warned Volger. “ Waters was 
my meat, he was! What business had you 
interferin’? ” 

Rip grew angry. “You ain’t my boss!” 

“ I ’m boss of this union,” asserted Volger. 

But Rip’s next shot brought him down. 
“ S’posin’ I ask for an accountin’ of the 
funds?” It was only a guess of Rip’s, but 
it was a good one, for he had noticed that 


288 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


whenever the money was spoken of Volger 
was uneasy. And now the president-treasurer 
weakened instantly. 

“ Pshaw!” he said, trying to be good- 
natured. “ What ’s the good of us quarrel- 
lin’ ? Let ’s see what we can do, instead of 
bein’ cat and dog.” 

“ But what can we do? ” grumbled Rip. 
“ I don’t see anything, unless we go to work 
and burn the whole place, and spoil it for 
every one.” 

“None of that!” cried Volger, in genuine 
fright. “ That means prison.” 

“ I just can’t bear that Mr. Dodd should 
dye all this stuff, and get it away from us, 
and then settle down to wait his month out, 
until the fellers weaken. If I could a’ smashed 
his looms ! ” 

“ Has he filled his contract? ” asked Volger. 

“ There ’s the stuff heapin’ higher in the 
finishin’-room every day,” answered Rip. 
“ They say it ’s only three days more before 
it ’s all done.” 


The New Dyer 


289 


“ Then let ’s make sure that it never gets 
out of town,” said Volger. 

Rip turned instantly, and stared at him. 
“ That ’s — that ’s — ,” but expression failed 
him. “ You ’re a wonder! ” he said at last. 

“ Will you do it? ” asked Yolger. 

“ I will if you go too,” answered Rip. 
“ And if we fail — ” Suddenly there shone 
in his eye the light of an idea. “ Then we ’ll 
take the boy himself ! ” 

“ Only if we have to,” Volger warned him. 

“ Don’t you be a coward, too,” said Rip, 
contemptuously. There was in him a little of 
the spite and recklessness of the born crimi- 
nal, who, when he sees the world against him, 
fights it with knife and teeth. “ All of you 
make me tired sometimes.” 

Volger felt a little frightened, lest he 
should be drawn into some very criminal ac- 
tion. “ Well, when shall we go and spoil the 
corduroy? ” he asked. 

“ To-night,” said Rip. “ But what shall we 
do to it? ” 


19 


290 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Slash it with knives/’ was the answer. 
“ Get a good one, long and sharp, and I’ 11 
go with you after supper.” 

“ I ’ll bring more than a knife,” muttered 
Rip to himself. 

There was only one mistake which Rip and 
Volger made, and that was in believing that 
there were three days left. In fact there was 
but one, but Mr. Dodd, intending to be pre- 
pared against any attempt of the strikers to 
steal his goods, had given out the false in- 
formation, intending, the minute the last bolt 
was finished, to cart the whole to the railroad 
and ship it all off. Mr. Dodd made no pro- 
vision against injury to the goods, other than 
to keep a sharp watch on all the buildings, — 
a sharper watch than either Rip or Volger 
realized. 

That was Tim’s first real day of dyeing. 
The afternoon before Waters had left the dye 
half mixed, with the materials all weighed and 
measured, and all Tim had had to do was to 
put the cloth in and take it out at the right 


The New Dyer 


291 


time, to wash it, and then to pass it on to the 
driers. But to-day he had to begin from the 
beginning, — mix four times, dye two bolts in 
each mixture, — and all on his own respon- 
sibility. No two of the dyes were alike, all 
had to be handled with the utmost care, and 
one of them was Waters’ own special dark 
rose. He waked early and thought of it, in 
the unfamiliar room at Mr. Dodd’s, and 
though Pelham lay asleep at his side, 
Tim could scarcely master his fright at his 
responsibility. 

But when the time came he went boldly at 
the work. Arthur was his helper now; Tim 
had asked for him on the day before. Arthur 
was strong, and could relieve Tim of the heavy 
work; he was deft, and could be trusted with 
tending the jigger. All Tim had to do was to 
weigh and mix, and to watch the colors and the 
cloth. Too much or too little of any one thing, 
and cloth would be spoiled, and time lost. 

Mr. Dodd helped to give him courage. 
“ Don’t think about it too much, Tim,” he 


292 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


said at the beginning of the work. “If you 
can do it, then I ’m pleased. But if you spoil 
a bolt or two, or even if you can’t manage it 
at all, — then never mind. I ’m obliged to 
you for trying, that ’s all.” 

So Tim began bravely. He knew that Nate 
was watching him half curiously, half sympa- 
thetically. He knew that Pelham was marvel- 
ling, and he knew that very much depended 
on himself. It is hard, in the midst of people, 
to be alone with a responsibility, to have to 
do something in which no one can help you; 
and it is especially hard if you are but a boy. 
But then a boy will show if he has in him the 
makings of a man, — and Tim showed that 
he had them. Into his face came first the 
determined look which Pelly knew, and then 
as he took up the scoop and approached the 
first barrel the wise expression came into his 
eyes. 

“Look at him!” whispered Nate to Pelly. 
“ See him scooping out the stuff as if he ’d 
done it all his life. That ’s the boy for you! ” 


The New Dyer 


293 


And from that minute Tim did his work, 
and did it well. “ Don’t suggest anything, or 
you ’ll upset me,” he said to Arthur, and the 
older boy loyally held his tongue and did what- 
ever he was bid. Once only did Tim call Nate 
to look at a mixture. “ Does it look quite 
right, for a chrome?” he asked. 

Nate surveyed the dye, and then looked at 
the boy. “ It would make a chrome,” he said, 
“ but what would you do if you did what you 
want to? ” Tim said nothing, hut opened his 
hand and showed that it was full of red 
powder. Nate stared at him in surprise. 

“ Waters never showed you that! ” he cried. 

“ No,” admitted Tim. “ He never puts red 
in his chrome, but it seems to me it needs it 
to be just right.” 

“ Bless you!” said Nate, “that’s a trick 
of my own. And you guessed it all by 
yourself? Scatter the stuff in, boy, stirring 
all the time, and you ’ll prove yourself a 
dyer.” 

So Tim went all the more boldly at his 


294 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


work, and succeeded. That night the proper 
number of bolts were dyed, and dried, and 
stacked to be finished, and not one had been 
spoiled, nor had a single ounce of dye-stuff 
been wasted. Nate opened his mind on the 
subject to Pelly. “ Some are born great,” 
was all he said, but he jerked his thumb in 
Tim’s direction, and the expression of his face 
said all that was needed. 

Mr. Dodd came and thanked Tim, and 
praised him. “ And,” he said, “ it ’s your 
regular turn to watch to-night until nine, but 
you ’d better go home and rest.” 

But Tim begged leave to stay. Though he 
did not say so, it would be uncomfortable for 
him without Pelham at the rich folks’ house, 
and Pelham was to stay and watch. Besides, 
Tim hated to give up a duty. Now that 
Waters was gone there was one less at the 
watching, and the boy felt that each should 
do his share. 

“ All right, then,” said Mr. Dodd. “ Bob 
stays, you know, and so you will be all right, 


The New Dyer 


295 


for I will never leave you two boys here alone 
again. Good-bye ! ” 

Bob and Pelham and Tim, then, stayed at 
the mill, and made their rounds together. 
Since the night of Rip’s visit there the 
watchers had made the rounds of the mill- 
grounds every hour, — a tedious task, but 
necessary, if the j^roperty was to be pre- 
served. This was a cloudy night, with no 
moon, and as the dark came on Bob proposed 
that they should not light the lantern. 

“ I have an idea,” he said, “ that it ’s the 
best way to catch any one that comes. Every 
night I ’m here I poke round a good deal 
in the dark. But — ” and he sighed — “I 
don’t suppose I ’ll have the luck to catch any 
one.” 

They made the rounds once at half-past six, 
again at half -past seven, and finally, in com- 
plete darkness, at half-past eight. All they 
had to do was to circle the outside of the 
buildings, to see that no windows had been 
touched. Lights were on in the mill at regu- 


296 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


lar intervals, and the three watched keenly for 
any movement inside. “ Carrying no light,” 
Bob explained, “ we can’t be seen, and we 
might just run on some one. — Who’s that? 
Down! ” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE SLUICEWAY AGAIN 

AT the completion of their round they had 
come to the corner of the dye-house, 
and were about to enter the mill-yard, 
when they heard a crunch of gravel, as if a 
boot had stirred it. There was long grass 
there, and following Bob’s dim figure, the 
two boys threw themselves into the grass, and 
peered into the mill-yard through this screen. 

The yard was dimly lighted by the lamps 
in the mill, which cast their beams, feeble, it 
is true, into the gravelled space through which 
ran the covered sluice. The buildings stood 
on both sides of the yard ; near where the boys 
were the sluice ended at the wheel; and at the 
other end was the sluice-gate, now shut these 
many days to keep back the mill-pond water. 
The whole surface of the yard, then, was 


298 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


faintly lighted, except close to the walls and 
between the windows, where were some sixty 
thickly shadowed spots, which the lights from 
across the yard did little to illumine. In one 
of these there might be some one hiding, and 
Bob was still just boy enough to long to catch 
a thief. 

“ Quiet,” he whispered to the others. “ Lay 
low, and if they have n’t heard us they ’ll show 
themselves. They ’ll think we ’re in the office. 
— Look!” 

Suddenly, silently, at the finishing-room 
window, a figure had appeared, and stood 
there working at the sash. Then a second 
showed at its side, and the watchers saw a 
flash of steel as the two tried together to pry 
the window open. Quietly Bob raised himself 
to his knees, then to his feet, and with the 
stealth of a cat began to tiptoe toward the 
men. At his heels the two boys as silently 
followed, with their hearts so high in their 
throats as almost to stop their breath. Nearer 
they stole, and nearer. 


The Sluiceway Again 


299 


But gravel is always gravel, and will crunch. 
It had betrayed the men, but now it warned 
them. Under Bob’s foot it shifted, and in- 
stantly the two men turned. With a roar of 
disgust Bob rushed at them, and the men 
turned at once and scurried away. Behind 
them all skimmed the two boys, only less swift 
than Bob himself. They gained rapidly on the 
men. Bob saw the distance lessening between 
them, calculated that he should reach them 
before they reached the darkness, and set his 
teeth for a tussle. Then suddenly the chase 
ended. 

The men, in glancing back over their shoul- 
ders, lost much speed, but saw their danger. 
“Into the sluice!” yelled one of them sud- 
denly, and into it they plunged. They hurled 
themselves at the sluice-gate as if to leap over 
it into the mill-pond that washed its further 
side; but instead they seized the top of the 
gate and wriggled like rats into the dry and 
hollow sluiceway. Bob, Pelham, and Tim 
stopped above them, baffled. Below them 


300 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


they heard the panting of the fugitives, but 
solid plank separated them, and while they 
hesitated to try to follow them into the dark- 
ness^ a voice called from the sluice: 

“ Keep out o’ here, or we ’ll put a bullet 
into you!” The sluiceway muffled the voice, 
and it could not be recognized. 

Bob stamped in disgust, then meditated, 
fretting. Help would not come for half an 
hour, and he could not weaken his little force 
by sending one of the boys for aid. He even 
disliked to divide forces, but he saw that he 
must, if the men were to be caught. Bending 
down, he put his ear to the planking, and then 
turned to the little boys. 

“ They are crawling along the sluice,” he 
said. “ They mean to get out by the lower 
end while we wait here. I must go down 
there, but you two guard this end. Here — ” 
and Bob ran quickly to a pile of lumber left 
by the machinists who had been making ready 
for the turbine. From this he snatched two 
short pieces of joist, and brought them to the 


The Sluiceway Again 


301 


boys. “ Take these,” he said. “ Hammer the 
men if they put their heads out. I don’t be- 
lieve they have pistols, so don’t be afraid of 
them, for they can’t get at you. Good-bye! ” 

Had Bob considered long enough, he would 
never have left the two boys alone. But his 
desire to catch the men mastered him, and he 
ran otf down the mill-yard, while the boys 
watched his dim figure flitting in and out of 
the lines of light that shone through the win- 
dows. Then the little boys looked at each 
other. Tim was glad, that the darkness could 
not show how pale he was, for he felt just 
as he had in the mill when they two were 
looking for Rip. Now, to be sure, he could 
run away; but afraid as he was of the two 
men, he was still more afraid to desert his 
post. So he stood, and shook in spite of him- 
self, and hoped that Pelham did not know how 
scared he was. 

Pelham was not the kind to suspect another 
of being afraid. He gripped his club, and 
stole nearer the sluice-gate, ready to strike. 


302 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“I wish they’d come out. Don’t you?” he 
asked. Tim, though he kept manfully at 
Pelham’s side, was honest and made no an- 
swer. “ They ’re not here, anyway,” added 
Pelham, regretfully. “ Bob ’ll have all the 
fun.” 

From Bob’s end of the sluice came the 
sound, of a thump and a broken yell. Then 
they heard Bob’s voice. “ Try it again ! Give 
me one more good chance at you, and you 
won’t get back! — Yes, I’ll come in there 
presently, don’t you fret.” 

“ Got ’em, Bob? ” called Pelly. 

“ Got one good crack at them,” answered 
Bob. “ I ’m just waiting now for them to 
come out again. I — ” 

So far they had heard his clear voice, when 
suddenly, from the other end of the sluice, 
came a flash and a report. Then there was 
complete silence. 

“Bob, Bob! ” called Pelly in fright. 

With relief they heard his answer. “ Cock- 
shot! ” There was a savage ring to his voice. 


The Sluiceway Again 


303 


“ Try it again, you coward^! ” Then came a 
familiar sound, of stone striking wood. 

“ He ’s stoning them/’ cried Pelly in delight. 
“Now they’ll — Ah!” For there came a 
second pistol-shot. 

“All right!” called Bob again from the 
darkness. “ I never even heard the bullet. — 
Show your head again, you sneak!” And 
bump went a second stone into the sluiceway. 

“ I ’ll bet on him,” whispered Pelham. 
“ Soon as he gets the range they ’ll keep 
inside.” 

He spoke the truth, for there was no more 
shooting. Twice more they heard Bob’s stones 
thump into the wooden sluice, and twice they 
heard him beg the thieves to show their heads. 
He was, as the boys guessed, safely hidden 
by the shadow, while a light shone clearly 
upon the opening where the men were con- 
cealed. The advantage was all with him, and 
he was able to maintain it. 

But the next move of the men was sudden 
and unexpected. “ Don’t you suppose,” Tim 


304 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


had just asked hopefully, “ that some one will 
hear the shooting and come? ” 

“ Perhaps,” Pelham was answering. “ But 
you see — ” 

There was a shuffling beneath them, and a 
dark head rose out from the opening. A hand 
grasped the edge of the gate, a second figure 
rose, waist high, and turned a masked face 
upon the lads. Tim saw the white visage, with 
the blank eyeholes, and started back. The first 
man was already climbing out. 

But Pelham, with ready club, dashed for- 
ward and struck. Whack! and the masked 
robber barely caught the blow upon his arm. 
“Take the other, Tim!” shouted Pelly, and 
struck again. Whack! The man ducked 
down into the sluiceway, and the blow fell 
upon the wood. 

And Tim, recovering himself, struck at the 
first man. The fellow was supporting him- 
self by an arm upon the boarding, and the 
blow fell upon the shoulder, glanced down the 
arm, and stopped upon the fingers. With a 


The Sluiceway Again 


305 


grunt the man dropped down into the dark- 
ness before Tim could strike again. 

“ Bob! ” shouted Pelly. 

“Com-ing!” And they heard his rapid 
feet upon the boarding, which gave him a 
perfect track. A few seconds, and he would 
be there. 

“Now, you men in there!” shouted Pelly, 
exulting. 

But the men in the sluice heard Bob also. 
An arm rose from the darkness, and as Pelly 
leaped at it the revolver barked almost into his 
face. The flame rushed by him, and he felt 
it sting his cheek. 

“Uh!” he grunted, and struck. But the 
surprise had startled him, and he missed. 
Again a shot rang out, at random, but too 
close, and both the boys started away. At 
the instant the two men rose again from the 
sluiceway, and began to climb out upon the 
planking. 

“Oh!” shrieked Pelham, in despair and 
fury, and he threw his club at them. Whirl- 


306 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


ing, it fell upon them both, and knocked them 
back. Then Tim found his chance. 

As he sprang aside he had stumbled against 
the post of the sluice-gate, caught at it to 
save himself from falling, and seized a dan- 
gling rope. It was the rope by which the 
gate was raised. An idea flashed into his 
mind, he threw all his weight upon the rope, 
and pulled. “ Pelly! ” he shouted, “help me 
raise the gate ! ” He pulled again with the 
strength of anger and fear, felt the gate 
yield, and heard the gushing water, but he 
knew he could never raise the gate alone, for 
the necessary three feet. “ Pelly !” he called 
again, and Pelham came. 

Tim saw his chum leap for the rope, felt it 
caught above his hand, and again threw all 
his weight upon it. It yielded so suddenly 
that the boys fell together, but they gathered 
in the slack, rose, and pulled once more. The 
gate slipped upward in its grooves and stopped. 
Sprawling together a second time, they held 
the rope taut, heard the rush of water, and 


The Sluiceway Again 


307 


watched with suspense the two forms which 
were just rising to climb again. Another 
moment, and their hold would be secure, but 
the boys suddenly shouted with hysterical 
laughter. 

For the first man staggered and fell against 
the second. They clutched each other, swayed 
a moment in full view, then disappeared. Two 
gurgling cries were swallowed up in water, 
then nothing more was seen or heard of the 
men. Bob came racing up. 

“ Bully for you!” he gasped. “Hurt, 
Pelly? Hurt, Tim?” 

“ I believe my face is burned a little,” Pel- 
ham said, rising. Bob took the rope from his 
hands, and secured it to its cleat, then turned 
his brother round to the dim light. “ Speckled 
with powder marks,” he said. “ But he did n’t 
hit you? ” He felt his brother all over before 
he would be satisfied. “And you, Tim?” 

“ All right,” said Tim. “ But — but can’t 
we catch them yet?” He hated to suggest 
more action, was unwilling to come to close 


308 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


quarters with the men again, but would not 
allow himself to flinch. 

“ We can! ” cried Bob. “ They ’ll be washed 
clean through the sluice. Lucky for them 
there ’s no wheel there. Come on!” And they 
dashed for the other end. 

But there was no trace of the men. They 
had been driven through the sluice, and had 
dragged their dripping selves away in the 
darkness before their pursuers arrived. Mr. 
Dodd, arriving just too late, helped in the 
search, but to no purpose. A revolver, with 
four chambers empty, was found jammed 
among the stones below the outlet, but there 
was nothing to show who owned it, or who 
the men had been. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

“TIM, HE FIT WELL!” 

“ NE more day, Tim,” said Mr. Dodd 

^ M on the following morning. “ Can 
you stand it?” And as Mr. Dodd 
spoke he was marvelling that he, so long with 
such resources at command, should now be 
dependent upon the pale and tired boy who 
stood before him, and to whom he already 
owed so much. 

“ I can stand it, sir,” answered Tim. “ But 
when the day ’s over — might I see Mr. 
Waters? I haven’t seen him for almost two 
days.” 

“ I will arrange it,” Mr. Dodd assured him. 
“ He is well-cared for, Tim. I have made 
sure that he has every comfort possible. And 
perhaps we can set him free.” 


310 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Tim shook his head. “ He — he did it, sir, 
and he is willing to stand punishment. But 
some one was saying they ’d be sending for 
him to go to New York, and I ’d like to see 
him first.” 

“You shall,” said Mr. Dodd, and with that 
to comfort him, Tim went to his last day of 
work. His position was heavy for him, with 
even Pelham looking up to him and ready to 
do him the slightest service, while the men 
would fetch and carry at his nod. To be so 
important oppressed Tim, and worried him 
lest he should not get through his day’s work. 
And he felt so tired! 

He had not slept well. Masked men 
prowled through his dreams, — he saw them 
climbing toward him out of holes, he went 
rolling down long sluiceways with them, driven 
by water, and a dozen times he had started 
up with pistol-shots ringing in his ears. But 
he gritted his teeth and went at his work, 
weighing and measuring, mixing and stirring, 
yet wishing that he might never again have 


rr Tim , He Fit Well! 


311 


such work to do. He felt desolate without his 
guardian, and, in spite of those around him, 
lonely indeed. 

And yet he got through the day. It was 
an interesting day, too. At noon, when they 
were all sitting as usual in the shade and eat- 
ing their lunch, came a half-dozen men to 
speak to Mr. Dodd. Cudahy was at their 
head, and, the rest of them were all from the 
older workmen. Mr. Dodd, dressed in his 
overalls like any laborer, looked up at them 
in their Sunday clothes. 

“ Well, Cudahy? ” he said. 

“ We would say, Misther Dodd,” began 
Cudahy, with a leap into the middle of his 
subject, “ that it ’s sorry we are we made such 
fools of ourselves, — an’ when would ye be 
ready to be takin’ of us back?” 

“Rip McCook?” asked Mr. Dodd. 

“ He must make his own bargain with ye, 
himself,” answered Cudahy. 

“ Volger cannot come back,” said Mr. Dodd. 

The men looked, at each other. They knew 


312 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


little of his underhand doings, none of them 
knew that he had been to the mill with Rip 
the night before, and they did not want to 
desert their leader. Cudahy, looking at his 
supporters, could make no answer. 

“ He is a mischief-maker,” said Mr. Dodd 
in brief explanation. “ And I believe my 
son’s account of his powder- thro wing at 
Nate’s house. Think it over, and when you 
are willing to give him up, come to me 
again.” 

Considerably taken aback, the men started 
to go. Cudahy turned for a final question, 
upon hearing which all the others stopped and 
listened for the answer. 

“ But the new water-wheel that goes side- 
ways, sir,” said Cudahy, “is it cornin’ soon?” 

“ I hope to have it ready in about a week,” 
answered Mr. Dodd, and the men nodded with 
pleasure. They would not have to wait out 
their month, then. Mr. Dodd added, “And 
after that any one that takes a ride down the 
sluice is likely to regret it.” 


" Tim, He Fit Well! ” 


313 


Cudahy saw that he spoke with meaning. 
“ I don’t understand, sir.” 

“ Two men were here last night,” said Mr. 
Dodd, “ who tried to break into the finishing- 
room. They were chased into the sluice, the 
water was turned on, and they were washed 
out.” 

“The likes of that, now!” exclaimed 
Cudahy. 

“ And it is no fault of theirs that my two 
sons are not dead this morning,” Mr. Dodd 
said. 

“ What! ” cried Cudahy. 

“ Pelly,” ordered his father, “ show your 
cheek.” And Pelham, with pride, turned to 
Cudahy a cheek, the very look of which had 
made his mother shudder and turn pale. 

“ Powther burns ! ” cried Cudahy, while the 
others pressed nearer to look. 

“We shall be armed ourselves after this,” 
said Mr. Dodd, “ and shall shoot on sight. 
And the constable is looking for two men 
who were wet through last night. That is 


314 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


all.” With a nod of his head he dismissed 
the men, who went away wondering. 

“ That is settled,” said Mr. Dodd with a 
sigh of relief. “ I ’ll give them four days 
more to give Volger up, and then we shall 
have them coming home like sheep. Poor 
fellows! they have bought their knowledge 
dearly.” And he caressed his youngest son, 
and looked fondly at his oldest, thinking how 
nearly the strike had cost him dearer still. 

And then came the last five hours of Tim’s 
ordeal, — a nerve-racking, brain-exhausting 
strain, for his legs were tired under him, 
and his back was weak. He even let Arthur 
help him with the weighing, and when it 
came to the royal purple he thought he 
should give up. 

“ Take something simpler, lad,” said Nate, 
guessing the boy’s thoughts as he saw him 
making ready. “ Give us a plain red, and let 
it go at that.” 

“ I ’ve my orders,” answered Tim, and went 
steadily at the work. But w^hen almost ready, 


"Tim, He Fit Well!” 


315 


it seemed to him as if his judgment had left 
him, — he could not remember how the dye 
should look. He had measured right, and 
mixed right, but somehow it did not look 
right, and yet he could not tell what was 
lacking. Nate saw him standing and staring 
down into the dye, and came to his side. 
“ Can I help? ” 

“ Wait,” said Tim, and shut his eyes. 
Purple — it should be a purple, — the right 
purple, Waters’ best. And something was 
lacking, just a little more to set it right, but 
what? If he could only sense it! Tim 
squeezed his eyes so tight shut that golden 
spots danced before them. Then he under- 
stood. 

“ Oh ! ” he cried, and ran into the dye-room. 
Nate followed, and saw him seize a scoop of 
dye from a cask. “Not that!” cried Nate, 
and tried, to stop him, but Tim pushed by, 
and scattered a little of the stuff into the 
dye. “ Stir, Arthur,” he ordered, and Arthur 
stirred. A little more, thought Tim, and a 


316 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


little more, and a little bit more. So! and he 
dropped the scoop. 

“ Now, ready with the bolt! ” he cried, and 
Arthur sprang to the machine. 

Nate went back to his jigger soberly, and 
catching Pelham’s eye, shook his head. 
“Failed for once,” he whispered. The two 
went on with their work, with occasional 
glances at Tim and Arthur. Tim put the 
bolt through the dye, hung over it, studied 
it, and rinsed it. Pie studied it again, shook 
his head, and put it all back again. 

“ See the rings under his eyes,” whispered 
Nate, and Pelham nodded. 

Again Tim put the cloth through the dye, 
rinsed it, and studied it. He shook his head, 
thinking deeply, and Nate came and stood 
over him and did likewise. 

“Not right,” said Nate. 

“ Not right,” echoed Tim. 

“ Try again,” Nate said. 

But Tim looked up, with fire in his eye. 
He stared at Nate haughtily, turned on his 


“Tim, He Fit Well!” 


317 


heel, and walked into the dye-room. There 
they heard him weighing again. 

“ The boy ’s clean crazy,” said Nate. 

“ Arthur! ” called Tim, and Arthur ran to 
him, helped him bring out new colors, and 
mix them at another machine. Nate, working 
with Pelly, watched out of the corner of his 
eye. “ He ’s going to try to dye it over,” he 
said. “The only way, too, for it’s too late 
to begin again. An hour more, and three 
more bolts. He ’ll — ” 

“ Put it in,” cried Tim, and Arthur began 
to wind the corduroy into the dye. Tim bent 
over to watch, Arthur craned to see, and at 
last Nate, unable to bear the suspense longer, 
left his machine and leaned over the other 
two. Tim watched the cloth as it came out, 
fingered it a moment, then straightened sud- 
denly, hopeful. 

“ Finish, and then rinse,” he said. Arthur 
wound the cloth through the dye, and then 
began to rinse it. Into the clear water he 
passed it, a yard, two yards; then Tim told 


318 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


him to stop. Bending over the cloth, Tim 
shook it in the water and looked at it care- 
fully. Nate leaned closer. 

“ Ah! ” cried Nate. 

“ Put it all through!” ordered Tim. He 
looked up into Nate’s face with one flush of 
triumph, then turned deadly white and reeled 
against the tank. Nate caught him. 

“ All right,” said Tim. “It — it knocked 
me out for a moment. Arthur, you finish, 
and I ’ll sit down.” 

He sat upon the floor and put his face in 
his hands. Mechanically Arthur went on with 
the work, and muttering to himself Nate 
went back to his jigger. All but for the mere 
labor of putting the bolts in and out of the 
dye, the work was done. And Tim, little Tim, 
had done it. 

Nate took Pelly by the ear and made him 
look up. “It ain’t like goin’ round in iron 
clothes an’ spearin’ other folks,” said Nate, 
shaking his forefinger in front of Pelly’s nose. 
“ It ain’t even like shootin’ burglars with a 


“Tim, He Fit Well!” 


319 


gun. But a good fight has been fought here 
this week, and we ’ve won it ; — an’ Tim, he 
fit well! ” 

Then Tim rose, went to his machine, and 
helped Arthur finish up the job. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A MEETING OF THE UNION 

S EPTEMBER had come, and it was 
upon a beautiful evening that Tim 
looked out to rest his tired eyes when 
all his work was done. In his heart was 
peace, a great contented weariness, as he 
started toward the jail, where Waters should 
tell him he had done well. But there was 
little peace in the councils of the union, for 
a meeting had just been called which was to 
prove a stormy one. 

“ We ’re callin’ a meetin’,” said Cudahy 
abruptly to Volger, whom he met in the 
street that afternoon. 

“ You We calling a meeting? ” asked Volger 
in surprise. “The president usually does that.” 

“ It ’s in the by-laws that ten members can 
call a meetin’,” answered Cudahy. “ I ’ve 


A Meeting of the Union 


321 


twenty an’ more at my back, an’ I notify ye 
to be at the hall at six o’clock.” 

Volger sought Rip and gave him the mes- 
sage. “ The men are going to break,” he 
said. 

“ Bad luck to ’em,” said Rip. “ All the rest 
of you are safe. You can go back to work.” 

Volger felt inward satisfaction that this was 
true, but he did not express his thoughts to 
Rip. Since the much-too-exciting adventure 
of the sluiceway Volger had begun to think 
that Rip was a dangerous companion. The 
strike once over, Rip would have to leave 
town, there could be from the men no call for 
strike-pay, and of course no investigation of 
the union’s treasury. In his heart Volger was 
relieved that the end of the strike was near. 

But at the meeting he heard that he was not 
to be allowed to return to work at the mill. 
Cudahy gave the information. “ An’ I’m 
never the one,” said Cudahy, “ to be castin’ 
asparagus on a man that may be honest, but 
I say to all this meetin’ here assembled that 


322 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


there ’s at least one thing that ’ s got to be 
looked into. Who threw the powther into 
Nate’s dye?” 

Volger, seated on the platform, heard the 
whole assembly catch its breath, and saw that 
every eye was turned on him. He rose at 
once. 

“ Am I accused? ” he asked. 

“ The two boys said ye did it,” replied 
Cudahy. 

“Boys!” cried Volger, grandly. “Their 
word against mine! ” 

“ They ’re two of the truthfullest lads in 
the town,” said Cudahy, doggedly. “ An’ that 
young Pelham is afraid of neither man nor 
ghost.” 

Volger knew Pelham’s courage well enough, 
as a bruised arm could tell. But he cried in 
scorn, “ He ’s a rich man’s son! ” 

“ An’ a good thing for him,” answered 
Cudahy, “ for it ’s meself has often wished I 
was born with a silver knife in me mouth. 
But, if you please, Mr. President, I ’ll just 


A Meeting of the Union 


323 


be askin’ a few questions of the men that went 
with ye to Nate’s house on that day.” 

Volger saw nods of approval in the meet- 
ing, and he quailed at the thought that all 
this was arranged. “ This is very unusual,” 
he said. 

“We ’re not followin’ rules now,” answered 
Cudahy. And turning to the meeting he 
called: “All those that were at Nate’s that 
day stand up ! ” 

They all stood up, and Rip the first of all. 
In fact Rip came suddenly to his feet like a 
Jack-in-the-box, speaking as he came. “ It ’s 
all a lie! ” he cried. “ It ’s a foolish story of 
them two boys, an’ they hate all of us like 
pison.” 

“ If it ’s hatin’ we ’re speakin’ of,” said 
Cudahy, drily, “ we ’ve come to the one that 
can tell us all about it. Sit down, Rip 
McCook. We ’ll call on you when we need 
you. But you others, tell us now what you 
saw, you that have the green dye on your 
clothes.” 


324 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


One by one they told their story, — they had 
all seen nothing! 

“ A fine set of clear-eyed lads ye are,” said 
Cudahy with scorn, when Johnny Bragin, the 
last of them, had faltered out his testimony, 
while Rip and Volger smiled savagely and yet 
uneasily. “ Had it come to the throwing of 
a brick, I doubt if one of ye ’d have noticed 
it. But Johnny Bragin, now, stand up once 
more, boy, and tell me just one thing. Re- 
member just how it was, look me in the eye, — 
no, look me in the eye, and just forgit that 
Rip and Volger ’s here at all.” His eye com- 
manded Johnny’s, and held it fascinated. 
Cudahy leaned forward, and seemed to lower 
his voice; but in the greater stillness, with 
every one listening to hear, the question was 
audible to all, — “Tell me just how it was 
arranged.” 

“ Why,” stammered poor Johnny, “ Rip was 
to keep Nate talkin’, and Volger was to slip 
round sideways, an’ — ” 

“ No, no!” shouted Rip and Volger together. 


A Meeting of the Union 


325 


But the meeting rose at them. “ You did 
it!” shouted a hundred throats. “You did 
it!” Fists were shaken, feet were stamped, 
and no individual voice could be heard, till the 
crowd had howled down Volger and Rip, and 
completely shamed the band of green-dyed 
envoys, who sat dumbfounded. But Volger 
waited till the storm subsided, and then spoke 
again. 

“ Hear me! ” he cried. 

“ No, hear me! ” Cudahy interrupted. 
“ Men, is that the man (and he pointed to 
Volger) that ye want for your president? ” 

“No! No! ” shouted the whole meeting. 

“ Is he the one ye want for your treas- 
urer?” asked Cudahy again. 

There was a moment’s silence while the true 
meaning of the question reached the minds of 
the members. Then one of them, quicker than 
the rest, shouted: 

“No! Bring the money here, and have it 
counted! ” And the meeting shouted it after 
him. 


326 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Then Volger rose and gazed sadly upon the 
crowd. “ What have yez to say? ” shouted one, 
but they made ready to listen. He made them 
a speech. 

He might have taken as his text the words: 
“ O wicked and perverse generation! ” They 
were wrong, he said. Some day they would 
know they were wrong; some day they would 
wish back. again the man they had condemned 
unheard. This, twice repeated, was the gist 
of his speech. The listeners grew restless, and 
some one shouted, “ How about the treasury? ” 

“You shall have it,” answered Yolger. 
“ Then you will be ashamed of your suspi- 
cions. Wait here, and I will go home for it 
at once.” He started down from the plat- 
form, but Cudahy put him back. 

“ Stand there a while yet,” said Cudahy. 
“ Ye ’re in too good a place for us all to see 
ye, and the meetin’ ’s not over yet. I Ve just 
one more thing to say to this meetin’, an’ 
when it ’s said, an’ when we Ve all got through 
talkin’ about it, then we ’ll let Mr. Volger go 


A Meeting of the Union 


327 


home an’ get his money. — Two men were at 
the mill last night, tryin’ to break in, and they 
shot at both the Dodd boys. Then they was 
doused in the sluice. If they was members of 
this union I want to know it, an’ the way we 
can learn is to find two men that came home 
wet. Can any one here tell of such? ” 

There was silence, while the members of the 
union looked wonderingly at each other, and 
then, as it were by habit, at Rip and Volger. 
“ I tell you I did n’t do it! ” shouted Rip with 
pale face. 

“No one accused ye,” answered Cudahy, 
politely. “ But who came home wet? ” 

There were no answers to the question. 
Then Rip rose to his feet. “ Look here,” he 
said, “ it seems to me we ’re talkin’ about 
things that have little to do with our strike. 
Never mind who did this or that. What we 
want is to beat Mr. Dodd.” 

“ I ’m not so sure,” put in Cudahy. 

“ I am, then,” retorted Rip, “ and this is how 
to do it. Mr. Dodd ’s been workin’ hard for 


328 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


almost two weeks to fill a contract. All the 
work depends on the dyein’, and there ’s a 
day’s more work to be done. All we have to 
do is to take that young Tim and keep him 
out of the way for a few days.” 

Rip looked about him triumphantly, but his 
proposal was received with the silence of dis- 
gust. Several voices called, “ We ’ll never do 
that! ” 

“ We ’ll never do that,” said Cudahy, rising, 
“ for two reasons. In the first place, we ’ve 
not the hard heart that ’s in you, Rip McCook ; 
an’ in the second place there ’s no use in doin’ 
it, because the dyein’ ’s all done. — No, ye 
needn’t look at me like that. I came across 
Mr. Bob this evening, an’ he gave me the 
news social like. But now,” and Cudahy again 
addressed the whole meeting, “ havin’ disposed 
of this young man’s foolishness, which looks 
to me a good deal like proposin’ to us to run 
our heads against the police, I ’ll ask my ques- 
tion once more: Were there two members of 
this union that went home wet last night?” 


A Meeting of the Union 


329 


There was again no answer. Volger seemed 
uneasy, the elder McCook looked frightened, 
the rest were curious, but no one spoke. 
Finally Rip arose, and those who watched 
him admired his boldness, for he was fighting 
for his right to live in the town. 

“ Well,” he asked, “ have n’t we done noth- 
ing long enough. I move we adjourn.” 

“ I agree to that,” said Cudahy, “ with this 
addition, that we adjourn till half -past seven, 
which will give our treasurer one hour to make 
up his accounts, and return here with the 
funds.” 

Accordingly the vote was passed, and the 
members of the union streamed out of the 
hall into the street. In the crowd Rip and 
Volger drew together, and when they met, 
questioned each other with their eyes. Then 
Rip fell a little behind Volger. “ Skip? ” he 
said in his ear, and Volger nodded. Both 
understood that the town was too hot for 
them, and that they must get away — if they 
could. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE FLIGHT 

O UT in the street before the hall, where 
the men were standing in groups, Rip 
came face to face with his sister 
Bridget. She was carrying a bundle, and 
Rip scowled at the sight of it, while his evil 
genius prompted him to stop her. It was 
partly that he wanted to assert his authority 
over some one, and partly because he wanted 
some one to smart for his misfortunes, that 
he stepped in Bridget’s way and opened on 
her with a volley of questions. 

“What yer got there? Where yer goin’? 
Why aren’t yer at home?” 

“ I ’m takin’ back Mrs. Cutler’s things,” 
said Bridget. 

“ That ’s right,” sneered Rip, “ makin’ 
money out of father an’ me, washin’ for 
other folks with our soap and water.” 


The Flight 


331 


“ Sure I consider myself entitled to the use 
of all the water on the place, and every tub 
and washboard, Rip McCook/’ retorted Biddy, 
angered at the public reproach, for she saw 
that the bystanders were listening. “ An’ I 
use my own soap an’ my own wood. The 
money that I earn this way is all that keeps 
me lookin’ decent.” 

“ You ’re forgettin’ our work,” said Rip. 

“ ’Deed an’ I ’m not,” answered Bridget. 
“ The house is all to rights. Your clothes and 
Mr. Volger’s is all dried, however you got 
them wet, an’ I ’ve pressed your suits for ye, 
though ’t is little ye deserved it.” 

“ Oh! ” cried voices near them. 

Rip recoiled at the betrayal which his spite 
had brought upon him. He saw the men 
pressing closer, and heard cries for Cudahy. 

“ Stand back!” cried Biddy, waving away 
those who were coming too close. “ What ’s 
wrong with ye all? ” 

“ So their clothes were wet last night? ” 
asked some, while the calls for Cudahy were 


332 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


repeated, and Volger began to move away, 
“ So they did it? ” 

“ I don’t know what they did,” said Biddy, 
“ and I don’t know what ye mane. Lave an 
honest girl alone on the public streets.” And 
vigorously pushing through the crowd, she 
went on her errand. 

And Rip went after Volger. He knew that 
Cudahy, if present, would seize him at once, 
but luckily for Rip there was no one there 
with enough presence of mind to lay hands on 
him, for Cudahy had gone home. Rip and 
Volger pushed out of the crowd, and hastened 
away. 

“Now it ’s all over,” said Rip, gloomily. 

“Why didn’t you let her alone?” asked 
Volger. 

“Shut up!” snarled Rip. Nothing more 
was said between them. Like two brutes who 
would willingly tear each other, but who know 
that their only safety lies in keeping together, 
they hurried to their house, seized hastily upon 
what valuables they could carry in their pockets, 


The Flight 


333 


and escaped out the back door. Volger took 
with him his “ treasury while Rip had taken 
not only his own few savings, but Biddy’s and 
his father’s little hoards as well, the hiding- 
places of which he had learned by long and 
patient watching. Together the two men stole 
out of the house and made their way across 
the fields toward the highroad. 

For a while they went in silence, but their 
feelings were strong. To be fleeing from the 
town, everything lost! Kicked out of the 
union, their credit gone, the constable looking 
for them! In his mind each began blaming 
the other. It was almost twilight now, but 
on the way to the highroad they saw a build- 
ing that they would have to pass. It was the 
jail. Volger pointed at it. 

“ There ’s where you ’ll be some day,” gibed 
Rip. 

“You too, you bungler,” growled Volger. 
“ It ’s you that spoiled everything.” 

“ It ’s them two boys that ’s been in our way 
every time,” retorted Rip. “ From first to last 


334 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


they ’ve tripped us up. If I could only lay 
my hands on them, they’d suffer! Yes, 
an’ their darling papas and guardians would 
suffer too. I ’d take ’em away and hide 
’em!” 

“ Quit your boasting,” said Volger. “You ’ll 
never lay hands on them. An’ be quiet, here ’s 
the jail.” In silence they approached the build- 
ing, around which their path led. 

In the meantime Tim had gone to the jail, 
where he had had a talk with his guardian, to 
see whom was a great delight. But at the end 
of a half-hour the jailer appeared, and said 
the time was up. “ I ’ve got to go to the 
village,” he said, “ and it ’s locking-up time, 
anyway.” 

“ Tell me first,” said Tim, “ when do you 
expect to hear from New York about sending 
Mr. Waters on? ” 

“ There ’s no telling,” answered the jailer. 
“ Tammany policemen ain’t always in the 
greatest hurry to tend to business. But if I 
haven’t sent him on to-morrow, come again, 


The Flight 


385 


and you shall see him. — And, see here, there ’s 
that young Pelham waiting outside for you. 
If he should give you a boost up to the 
window-sill, no one would know about it, and 
you could talk there for a while.” 

“ Good! ” said Tim, and darted out. 

Now the jail was an old stone building, 
dating back to the beginning of the town, 
and now used as a jail because of its great 
strength. Its walls were thick and its window- 
openings deep, so that it was quite possible 
for a boy to curl up with great comfort out- 
side the bars which kept the prisoners in. 
Waters was on the ground floor, Pelham was 
at hand to lend a back, so that presently Tim 
was again talking with his guardian, while the 
jailer, whose usual business was truck farming, 
went to the village to buy seed, and his son 
kept guard over the jail. 

Tim and Waters had more or less to say: 
about the dyes, and especially the royal purple; 
about the present and the past, but chiefly 
of the future, for Tim wished to follow 


336 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Waters to New York, and be near him dur- 
ing his trial. He coaxed his guardian for his 
consent. 

“ I don’t know,” said Waters, reluctant. 
“ New York ’s a huge place, and harm might 
come to ’ee. — I see Pelham ’s beginning to 
fidget, so I think it must be time ye were 
both home. An’ it ’s dusk anyway, so ’ee ’d 
best be going. Get thee down, lad, and come 
in the morning.” 

So Tim said good-bye, and dropped from 
the stone sill. Pelham, too, called a good- 
night, and then the two turned away. But at 
that moment two hurrying figures came round 
the corner, and ran plump into the boys. The 
men were Volger and Rip. 

“ Got ’im! ” cried Rip, seizing upon Pelham. 
“Grab yours!” Volger at once fastened 
upon Tim. “ We ’ll take ’em with us! ” cried 
Rip in triumph, and began to drag away his 
captive. 

But it was not easy for him when Pelham 
began to struggle. The boy hung back, dug 


The Flight 


337 


his heels into the ground, and tried to twist 
away. Tim, too, resisted Volger, and from his 
window Waters shouted “ Help! ” 

Then Rip, in fury, clenched his fist and 
struck Pelham twice upon the forehead. 
The boy stopped struggling and stood dazed. 
Again Rip struck, and Pelham fell to his 
knees, then collapsed upon the ground. Rip, 
with a snarl, sprang to Volger ’s help, and in 
a moment Tim stood helpless, his arms badly 
wrenched, his hands tied behind him. They 
dragged him to Pelham, and tied the boys 
together with the same cord. 

“Brutes! Cowards !” thundered Waters 
through the bars. 

“ Murderer !” returned Rip. He dragged 
Pelham to his feet, and shook him till his eyes 
opened. “ Come along with me,” he ordered. 
Pelham, staggering, obeyed. “You too,” Rip 
said to Tim, pulling at the cord. 

Tim looked up at Waters. “ Good-bye, 
father.” Waters saw the cord cutting deep 

into the boy’s wrists, the look of despair upon 

22 


338 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Tim’s face as he followed his captor out of 
sight. 

“ Help! ” shouted Waters from his window. 
“ Help ! Help ! ” But there was no answer. 
Then he rushed to his door and began to beat 
upon it, but for a long time nobody came. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


NEWS 

W ATERS, thundering upon the door 
of his cell, at last roused the jailer’s 
son. “ What you matin’ so much 
noise for? ” called the youngster in the cor- 
ridor, making his voice as manly as he could, 
to awe the murderer. 

“ Open the door,” answered Waters. “ Some- 
thing ’s wrong. Open ! ” 

“ Sha’n’t,” replied the youngster, shaking 
his keys, however, to show his power of 
choice. “You ’ll have your dinner when pa 
gets back.” 

“Will you go on an errand for me?” de- 
manded Waters. 

“ Got to stay here,” was the answer. 

“ Fire! ” shouted Waters. “ The cell ’s afire. 
Let me out! ” At last he heard the key rat- 


340 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


tling in the lock. But the deputy jailer, when 
he opened the door, looked in vain for smoke. 

“You said there was fire,” he complained, 
halting in alarm upon the threshold. Waters 
seized him by the collar. 

“ You fool! ” cried the dyer. “ You ’ve lost 
me half an hour! ” He swung the lad into the 
cell, and cast him into a corner. Then he 
darted into the corridor, shut and locked the 
door, and rushed out of the building, regard- 
less of the shouts and entreaties behind him. 
Outside there were no signs of the fugitives, 
and Waters started at once, at full speed, to 
fetch help from the town. 

Now at the Dodds’ house a discovery had 
been made. Mr. Dodd, going home from the 
mill with the good news that the dyeing was 
at last finished, found his wife in the sewing- 
room and gave her his story. “ And have n’t 
the boys, all of them, done well? ” he asked. 

“ Yes,” she agreed. “ But they ’ve worn 
out all their clothes over it. Here I am 
getting out the trousers I never expected 


News 


341 


Pelham to wear again. It ’s a mercy I had n’t 
given them away. He tore them on that hare 
and hounds chase when he sprained his ankle.” 

“ Which reminds me that I have a grudge 
against him,” said Mr. Dodd. “ He let out 
to-day, by accident, that it was Volger after 
all who struck him on that day.” 

“ You must remember that that ’s his way,” 
reminded his wife. “ He is always too gener- 
ous with those that injure him.” 

“ He w T ould have saved us all a lot of 
trouble this time if he had told,” grumbled 
Mr. Dodd. “What have you there — a bundle 
of clippings? The cause of the trouble, I do 
believe!” For Mrs. Dodd, feeling in Pel- 
ham’s pockets, had brought out a miscellany 
of sticks and twine, and entangled in them 
was a little packet of newspaper clippings. 

Mr. Dodd took them, opened them, and 
began to read their headlines. “ 4 Foxy Adams 
wanted. — Police after the Agitator-Defaulter. 
— The Old Game played with Success. — One 
more Union buncoed by the Walking Dele- 


342 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


gate.’ — That sounds familiar,” commented Mr. 
Dodd with great interest. “ 4 Went under Sev- 
eral Names.’ — Mary, look here! ” 

He showed her a newspaper picture of a 
bearded man. 44 1 never saw him before,” she 
said. 

Mr. Dodd covered the lower part of the 
pictured face. 44 It looks like Volger,” he 
insisted. 44 1 know it’s Volger! That man 
shall be arrested till all this is looked into ! ” 
And he went hastily from the house. 

At the post-office he found one of the 
town’s two constables. 44 Davis,” he said, 
calling the man aside, 44 you must arrest 
Volger for me,” and he explained the case 
to him. 

44 Now you ’re talkin’,” cried the constable 
admiringly. 44 1 ’ve always wanted to git my 
hands on that feller. I don’t like him. Scratch 
me off a warrant, Mr. Dodd, and I ’ll jail him 
in an hour.” 

And then appeared the other constable, who 
had left Waters in charge of his son. 44 Did 


News 


343 


I hear you say jail? ” he asked. “ Got any- 
thing more in my line, Mr. Dodd? ” 

“ You ’ll lose something in your line some 
of these days,” said his fellow official, “ if you 
go off leavin’ your prisoners in charge of that 
green youngster of yourn.” 

“ My Tommy ’ll take care of any one,” 
boasted the jailer. “ Nobody ’ll fool him. 
He ’s too smart.” 

“He is, is he?” was the retort. “Then 
look here! ” And there, rushing into the post- 
office, came Waters himself. The constables 
seized him promptly. 

“ How ’d you get out? ” asked one of 
them, while the other demanded, “ Where ’s 
my son? ” 

“ Your precious son ’s locked up in my cell 
for a fool,” answered Waters, roughly. “ See 
here, I want — ” 

“Back you go!” said both constables to- 
gether, and began to hustle him toward the 
door. Every loafer in the neighborhood, 
every one who was coming for his evening 


344 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


mail, and all the evening shoppers, — a total 
of half the male population of the town, — 
came rushing to see. 

“Mr. Dodd,” shouted Waters, “Volger’s 
run off with your son!” 

“Stop there!” called Mr. Dodd to the 
constables. “ Waters, what ’s all this? ” And 
then, standing with his arms pinioned, but with 
sincerity in every word he spoke, Waters told 
his story of the carrying away of the two 
boys. 

“ Wal,” said one of the constables when he 
had finished, “ can’t exactly say ’s I blame ye 
for breakin’ jail.” 

But Mr. Dodd looked about him on the 
crowd. A shopkeeper or two, the postmaster, 
and half-a-dozen farmers were there. And 
now Bob came pushing through the crowd, in 
anger and alarm at the news which was flying 
so rapidly. The street outside was filling with 
excited men, as shouts, “ Tim Waters and 
Pelly Dodd are carried off ! ” went echoing 
down the street. But nine-tenths of the men 


News 


345 


there were the strikers, — his men once, Mr. 
Dodd thought, but now angry with him. 
Could he depend on them to help? He 
doubted it. Signalling Bob to follow him, 
and ordering the constables to bring Waters, 
Mr. Dodd forced his way into the street. 

There he met Cudahy. “ Mr. Dodd,” said 
the workman, stopping him, “is it true that 
them two has taken the boys? ” 

“ It is,” Mr. Dodd answered. “ You may 
not believe it. Volger is your president.” 

“ We ’ve found out about him more than 
you know,” answered Cudahy. “ He ’s lied, 
he ’s stolen, he ’s played all kinds of dirty 
tricks. But if he was the best one among 
us, an’ if Rip McCook were the prisident 
of the United States, I ’d smash them both 
for layin’ hands on them boys. Say the 
word, Mr. Dodd. Where shall we look for 
thim? ” 

Mr. Dodd looked around on the eager 
crowd. There was one with green dye on his 
clothes, there were married men whose fami- 


346 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


lies had already suffered from the strike. 
“Men,” he asked, “are you with me?” 

“ We are! ” they cried like one man. “ We 
are, Mr. Dodd!” 

“ Thank God! ” he responded. “ We ’ll get 
the boys, then. — Search on every road that 
leads out of town. Get bicycles and horses, 
and go as far as you can. I will pay every 
expense. They can’t escape us now!” 

But they searched the night through, and 
found nothing. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE SUGAR-HOUSE 

T HE truth was that Volger and Rip, 
with the two boys, had turned aside 
from the main road. As they trav- 
elled, Volger suddenly said: 

“ They ’ll telephone in all directions.” 

“ Cert,” answered Rip, indifferently. 

“ Then they ’ll catch us,” cried Volger. 
Pelham, trudging by Tim’s side, pushed 
against him as a sign of encouragement. 
But Rip said: “Don’t you worry. I know 
where they ’ll not find us,” and the hearts 
of both boys sank. Soon, without warning, 
Rip turned the whole party into a wood- 
path. 

“ This goes to Xate’s,” said Volger. The 
boys had recognized the path also. 

“ What if it does? ” asked Rip. 


348 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ He ’ll be up here right away, now the 
strike ’s broken.” 

“ No he won’t,” snapped Rip. “ Every- 
body ’ll be hunting for us for the next two 
days, and lie ’ll be with ’em.” 

“ See here,” said Volger, stopping and 
drawing Rip away from the boys, “ let ’s turn 
these two loose and run for it. They’ll only 
get us caught.” 

“ They won’t,” answered Rip, so loud that 
the boys heard. “We’ll lay low here for a 
day, an’ then we ’ll go through the woods 
across the line into New York state. It ’s only 
twenty miles, and woods nearly all the way. 
Brace up, and stop bein’ scared.” 

And so, the guiding spirit, Rip drove Volger 
and the two boys ahead of him up the hill. 
The moon came out, and they were able to see 
their way, reaching at last the dyer’s house. 
But when Volger turned toward the door, Rip 
checked him. “Not there,” he said. “ I know 
a better place. Keep on uphill.” 

So they passed the house and went further, 


The Sugar-House 


349 


trudging wearily along. The boys had had a 
hard day, and Tim especially. The wrists of 
both hurt badly; they could not help feeling 
frightened, and though Pelham’s every nerve 
tingled with anger, he was anxious for his 
mother’s sake. He had hoped to rest at 
Nate’s cottage, but Rip drove them on till 
the sugar-house came in sight. “There!” 
said Rip. 

Pelham’s heart sank. Except when Nate 
worked there for a few weeks in spring, or 
the boys went there once or twice in the sum- 
mer, the sugar-house was deserted. Rip had 
chosen his hiding-place well. 

They went in, and Rip made a light, order- 
ing the boys into a corner. Two pocketfuls 
of biscuits which Rip had taken from Bridget’s 
closet were all the food they had. Rip laid 
half of them aside for the morning, took three 
himself and gave Volger three, and tossed a 
single one in the direction of the boys. It 
fell on Pelly’s lap, and the two looked at it. 
Suddenly they realized how hungry they were. 


350 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Well,” growled Rip, “ why don’t you eat 
it?” 

“ Can’t reach it,” answered Pelly. “ Untie 
us.” 

“ I guess so ! ” sneered Rip. 

But after some thought he got up, came 
over to them, and untied their wrists, tying 
their ankles, however, securely. “ There,” he 
grunted. 

Oh, the relief of free hands! The two boys, 
unmindful of the biscuit, fell to rubbing their 
wrists, to bring the blood back to their hands. 
Their fingers were at first so numb that they 
could do scarcely anything. “ Don’t you want 
food? ” asked Rip at last, and made a step 
toward them as if to take the biscuit away. 
Pelham seized it immediately, broke it in two, 
and gave half of it to Tim. They ate eagerly, 
relieved to see Rip turn away. Dry as the 
food was, it was most welcome. 

But it was not enough. Pelham cast a 
longing eye at the little store of biscuits 
which Rip had laid aside; they were almost 


The Sugar-House 


351 


within reach. The light, a single candle-end, 
was not strong, and the boys were squatted 
on a log in a dark corner. The biscuits were 
on an upturned bucket, and they were too 
strong a temptation for Pelham. Rip and 
Volger, speaking in low tones, turned to the 
door and looked out, and Pelham, bold as 
ever, stretched till he almost fell from his 
seat, reached the biscuits, and took two. In 
a minute they had been quietly munched, and 
the boys were feeling better. Then Pelham 
reached again, and took two more. 

But the third pair of biscuits, when these 
were gone, were almost too far away, and 
Rip and Volger turned from the door again. 
Pelham sat still, although he thought the loss 
of the biscuits would be discovered instantly. 
Muttering together and occasionally glancing 
at the boys, Volger and Rip kept on with 
their conference. Once they both turned 
away, and Pelham measured the distance to 
the biscuit, while Tim pressed him with his 
knee and frowned and shook his head to dis- 


352 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


suade him. Their captors turned back, and 
Pelham sat rigid. Then the two men went 
and stood in the doorway. 

Instantly Pelham hooked his foot in Tim’s, 
reached forward, and took two more. One 
lone biscuit sat upon the bucket where there 
had been seven, and if ever a sight added 
relish to food, that did. The boys ate as fast 
as they could for quiet and for comfort, but 
this time Rip, turning about, caught them 
still chewing. He saw the lone biscuit, and 
understood. 

“What!” he shouted, striding toward 
Pelham. 

The boy yawned in his face. “ I think I ’ll 
go to sleep now.” For reply Rip caught him 
by the shoulders, threw him on the floor, and 
kicked him. 

“ That ’s one I ’ll remember against you,” 
said Pelham, looking up. Rip kicked again. 

“ Two,” counted Pelham, unflinching. 

Rip drew back his foot. “ Oh, if I dared 
to let you really have it,” he snarled. 


The Sugar-House 


353 


“ But you don’t! ” retorted Pelham. 

Then Rip stooped, seized him again, and 
dragged him to his feet. “ See here,” he 
cried, and threw open the door of the great 
fire-box, above which were Nate’s skimming- 
pans. “ Look in there! ” Rip cried again, and 
pointed into the cavernous place. “ There ’s 
room in there for two boys of your size to 
smother together, if I shut up the door. 
Don’t talk to me of what I dare, and don’t 
steal any more of my food, or I ’ll put you 
in there and leave you ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


CAPTIVITY 

T HEN he thrust the boy again into the 
corner. “ Go to sleep,” he said. 
“You don’t get any breakfast in the 
morning.” 

It sweetened Pelham’s thoughts, as in spite 
of his numb ankles he dropped into a doze, 
that Rip’s breakfast would only be half a 
biscuit. Tim, thrust down by his side, threw 
an arm across his chum, and together the two 
boys slept. 

In the morning they had no breakfast, nor 
even water, though in their sight Volger and 
Rip sat drinking from one of Nate’s pitchers. 
The morning dragged by for the hoys, though 
the two men went out and picked berries or 
watched the country roads for sight of pur- 
suers. The boys were well tied to the wall. 


Captivity 


355 


and they made no attempt to escape, for, as 
Tim said, the longer they waited there, the 
surer they were to be discovered by their 
friends. Noon came and passed, and the 
afternoon advanced with slow steps. 

Then while they sat wearily and uncom- 
fortably in their corner, Rip and Volger sud- 
denly rushed into the sugar-house. For a 
moment, seeing the excited faces of the two, 
Tim thought of murder, and Pelly prepared 
for resistance. But Rip’s first words told 
them better. 

“ They ’ll be here in a minute,” he said. 
“ Johnny Bragin — I ’ll smash him, but where 
shall we hide these two?” 

“ The fire-box,” said Volger, and threw it 
open. He seized Pelham like a sack of pota- 
toes, Rip took Tim, and together the boys 
were roughly shoved into the box, feet first. 
The box was cold and ashy; it smelt of char- 
coal and smoke ; and the grate-bars across 
which the boys lay were hard and sharp. 
The door was all but closed on them; and the 


356 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


door of the ash-pit, below them, was opened 
an inch. The boys heard Rip’s threatening 
voice close to their heads. 

“Be quiet now!” ordered Rip, bending to 
the door. “Say a word when these fellers 
are here, and we ’ll smother you! ” 

Then there was silence, and next the sound 
of footsteps in the grass outside the house. 
A voice said, “ Do you suppose they ’re here? ” 
and then the door creaked. There came an 
“Oh!” of dismay. 

Rip, standing in the middle of the sugar- 
house, faced the three searchers who had 
happened upon them. “ Come in, boys,” he 
said. “ Come in you first of all, Johnny 
Bragin. What brings you all here? ” 

But the three, being acquainted with Rip, 
and having little courage, stopped outside, 
where they could instantly scatter in flight. 
“We — we did n’t know you were here,” said 
Johnny. “Where are the boys?” 

“ The boys?” asked Rip in surprise. “What 
boys? ” 


Captivity 


357 


Then followed a colloquy easily imagined. 
The boys were Pelly and Tim; everyone 
thought that Rip had taken them away. But 
oh, no, Rip had never dreamed of such a 
thing. ITe had n’t seen the boys since they 
met by the jail, and Waters was well known 
as a liar. The three at the door doubtfully 
accepted the statement. Still, they saw that 
the boys were not with Rip, — and guessed 
they ’d be moving on. 

“ But look here, Johnny,” said Rip, “ just 
come in here a moment, won’t you. I ’ve got 
something I want to send to my father, and 
I ’d like you to take it.” He pretended to 
be feeling in his pockets. “ Come in. Don’t 
be scared of me, man ! ” 

Rip could not wholly disguise the disgust 
he felt at the fool who had betrayed him at 
the meeting, and Johnny could but remember 
that Rip had every reason to desire vengeance. 
Still, being always weak and unwilling to give 
offence, even though the whole world lay be- 
hind him into which to flee, Johnny ventured 


358 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


a step into the house. Rip viewed him with 
satisfaction, and measured the distance with 
his eye. “ That ’s right,” he said. 

Johnny was about to take another step, 
when a long arm could seize him and a his- 
toric beating would have been perpetrated. 
But a voice came seemingly from nowhere, 
muffled, and yet to be understood. 

“ Look out, Johnny! Run home and tell! ” 

“Lord save us!” gasped Johnny, looking 
up and down. 

“ Oh! ” roared Rip, looking behind him. 

“ We ’re both here, in the fire-box,” said the 
voice. “ Run , Johnny! ” 

It came to Johnny’s mind that this was the 
voice of Pelham. He saw Rip turn again 
savagely, he heard the voices of his comrades 
as they suddenly quitted the door. Johnny 
had all the weaknesses of a rabbit, but also 
its one strength, — the instinct for flight. As 
Rip leaped toward him he shrieked, turned, 
and sped away. 

Rip, after one bound toward Johnny, saw 


Captivity 


359 


that pursuit was useless. Turning back, he 
rushed to the fire-box, pulled out both the 
boys, throwing them roughly upon the floor, 
and then stood over Pelham. “ Now,” he 
hissed through his teeth, “ you ’ll see if I don’t 
dare — ” 

“ See here,” said Volger, “ we ’ve got just 
an hour to get away.” He put a hand on 
Rip’s arm. 

“Let me alone!” cried Rip, shaking him 
off. 

“ There ’ll be fifty men here,” insisted Vol- 
ger. “ Let ’s get safe away, and then do what 
you please to him.” 

“ Well,” said Rip, reluctantly. He delivered 
one kick at Pelham before he turned away. 
“ Three,” counted Pelham softly to himself. 
“What’ll we do?” asked Rip. 

“ We ’ve got to get food and water from 
Nate’s,” said Volger. “ Come on, he ’s got 
flour in the house, anyway.” 

Once more Rip dragged the boys from the 
floor. He tied Tim on the log again, but 


360 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Pelham he lashed to the only chair, and tied 
his wrists together. Then drawing from his 
pocket a long knife, he suddenly flashed it 
before the boy’s eyes. “Oh!” cried Tim in 
horror, but Pelham did not flinch. Though 
his lips grew white, he looked steadily into 
Rip’s face. 

“ There! ” said Rip, and jabbing the knife 
downward into the table, he left it standing 
there, quivering. “ That ’ s what will happen 
to you if you play any more tricks.” With 
this parting threat, Rip and Volger hastened 
out of the sugar-house to rummage in Nate’s 
stores. 

The two boys looked at each other, and both 
drew long breaths. “Whew!” said Pelly. 
“ It ’s good to have them out of sight, is n’t 
it? ” They listened to the sound of Rip and 
Volger pushing through the bushes until they 
could be heard no longer. Then Pelham’s 
gaze was suddenly fixed upon the knife in 
front of him. 

“Gravy!” he cried. 


Captivity 


361 


“ What is it? ” asked Tim. 

“ Gravy! ” cried Pelham again, — his favor- 
ite exclamation, which with him always had a 
meaning. He stared again at the knife, and 
then at his hands. “ What is it? ” demanded 
Tim once more. 

“ Tim,” asked Pelham, “ do you remember 
the place in the ‘ Heroes of Iceland,’ where 
Njal’s sons are prisoners of the Earl, and are 
to be killed at daylight?” 

“ No,” said Tim. 

“ ‘ And when all men slept save Njal’s 
sons,’ ” quoted Pelham, “ ‘ Grim saw an axe 
lying edge up, and crawled thither, and cut 
the bowstring which bound him, but still he 
got great wounds on his arms.’ ” And all the 
time Pelham was gazing at Rip’s knife. 

“ Oh, Pelham,” cried Tim, “ you must n’t! ” 

“ Must n’t I?” asked Pelham, and then he 
began to hitch his chair toward the table, while 
Tim watched. Little by little, inch by inch, 
Pelham neared the table, and at last could 
raise his arms to try to cut the cord that tied 


362 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


his wrist. Carefully — carefully — then sud- 
denly Tim saw the blood. 

“ Oh, Pelly! ” he cried. 

“ It ’s nothing,” answered Pelham, firmly, 
and went on sawing at the cord. Twice more 
the marline slipped by the knife, and twice 
more he cut his wrist, but then at last the 
cord parted. Raising his arms, Pelham 
quickly shook them free of the wrappings, 
seized the knife from the table, and cut the 
lashings that held him to the chair. “ Now! ” 
he said, and started toward Tim. 

But at the first step he fell upon the 
floor, — his numb legs would not carry him. 
“Oh!” he groaned in disgust, and held the 
knife out. “Can you cut yourself loose?” 
Tim, leaning forward, was just able to reach 
the knife. Taking it, he quickly freed 
himself. 

And then, for seconds that seemed minutes, 
and minutes that seemed hours, the two boys 
rubbed their ankles and legs, to bring the 
blood to the useless muscles. Rip, thought 


Captivity 


363 


Pelham furiously, had tied them all too well, 
and presently he would be coming back. And 
at that very moment he heard the snapping 
of bushes. 

Pelham leaped to his feet and hobbled to 
the door. “I see their hats/’ he whispered, 
looking out. “ They ’ll be here in a moment.” 
He was testing his legs as he spoke, and every 
instant felt new strength. “ Can you run, 
Tim?” 

“ Yes,” answered Tim, valiantly. He rose 
from the log, took one feeble step toward the 
door, and fell helplessly. Pelham leaped to 
him and tried to help him up. 

“ No,” said Tim, looking at his chum. “ I 
need a few minutes more. But you ’re all 
right, Pelly. Bun ! ” 

“I guess so!” answered Pelham, with all 
a boy’s contempt. “ I think I see myself!” 
He went to the door and kicked aside the prop 
that held it open. Just coming, in full view, 
were Rip and Volger, and Pelham waved his 
hand to them. Then he swung the door to in 


364 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


haste, and dropped the wooden bars into place 
just as Rip flung himself against the door. 

Rip raged at the door till he found that it 
would, not yield. Then he sprang upon a pile 
of brush which was under the single window 
of the cabin. He broke the window and thrust 
in his head. Right under his nose Pelham held 
the point of his own knife. 

“ Plonest and true, I ’ll use it, Rip,” said 
Pelly. 

The boy’s face was pale, but there was no 
mistaking the courage in his eyes. Rip felt 
the prick of the point, and drew back. 

“ Better leave ’em, and come along,” said 
Volger, while Rip stood glaring at the ground 
again, looking for some weapon against the 
boys. 

“ Leave ’em? ” shouted Rip in fury. He 
dragged the pile of brush in front of the 
door, stooped before it, and drew out a match. 

“ What are you about? ” cried Volger. 

“ I in burnin’ the door down,” answered 
Rip. He struck the match, put it to the 


Captivity 


365 


brush, and in an instant the dry pile was 
crackling. “ Now,” said Rip, rising. “ The 
door and window are both on this side. They 
can’t get away.” 

Apparently there was no attempt to get 
away. The brush blazed up, the door caught, 
the wood around the door was burning, and 
still there was no sign, and no sound, from 
the boys. At last Volger, alarmed, called to 
them to climb out the window. There was 
no answer. 

Then Volger, shaking with fear, turned to 
Rip. “ You — you ’ve killed them! ” 

“ Aw, shut up,” answered Rip, though his 
own face was yellow. “ They ’ll come climb- 
ing out the window soon enough ! ” 

Volger turned and looked, and there, across 
the window from inside, swept a sheet of 
flame. Another followed, the frame of the 
window caught, and then, suddenly, the door 
fell in. The whole interior of the sugar-house 
was seething with fire. 

“ Boys! Boys! ” shrieked Volger. 


36G Pelham and His Friend Tim 


There was no answer. There could be no 
answer. With starting eyes Volger looked at 
Rip, and saw in his face the reflection of his 
own horror. Then, with one impulse, the two 
rushed away from that terrible place. 


CHAPTER XXXII 

THE BITERS BIT 


T here had come a temporary stop to 
the search for the lost boys, and be- 
fore starting out a second time many 
of the searchers were in the town. Mr. Dodd, 
the director of it all, had been telephoning 
and telegraphing since early morning. Just 
now he had finished sending a long telegram 
to the chief of police of the city of New 
York, describing Volger, saying that his name 
was possibly Adams, and asking whether, as 
the newspaper clippings said, he was wanted 
in New York for any crimes. At the same 
time Mr. Dodd demanded an answer in re- 
gard to Waters. He had just left the tele- 
graph office when he saw an excited crowd 
coming to meet him, and heard the shouts 
of, “They’re at Nate’s sugar-house!” 


368 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Then Johnny Bragin was shoved forward, 
and told his story in one breathless burst. Mr. 
Dodd, while he listened, planned, and noted 
with satisfaction that besides Cudahy, Nate, 
and Waters, there were others there on whom 
he could depend. 

“We ’ll go there at once,” said Mr. Dodd, 
when Johnny had finished, “ and we ’ll all go 
together. Then, if they ’re gone, we ’ll spread 
out and search the woods. Where ’s my son 
Bob?” 

“ He ’s not come back yet,” was the answer. 

“ He ’ll be furious at missing it,” Mr. Dodd 
said, “ but we can’t help that. Come on, now.” 

Otf they started together, forty men and 
boys, — and yet the boys, who should have 
gone first, lingered. Then it was that Arthur, 
and Lawrence, and Biff S potts, who had so 
manfully worked at the mill throughout the 
strike, though ostracised by their former fel- 
lows, received at last their reward. They were 
tired, all of them, with their mill-work, they 
had been searching for hours, and though they 


The Biters Bit 


369 


were bound to follow the men to Nate’s, they 
had no strength to go ranging on ahead. Let 
the workingmen’s sons do that, they thought, 
as they fell in behind the men, and began to 
trudge along. 

But the workingmen’s sons lingered behind, 
drew nearer and nearer, and finally were walk- 
ing side by side with them. On one side of 
the road were Arthur, and Lawrence, and Biff, 
who should have had Tim and Pelly to make 
their number complete; and on the other side 
were Duck Lanigan, and Curly, and Hop the 
son of Cudahy, and all those others with whom 
so many games had been played, and so many 
good times enjoyed. But no word was yet 
spoken, for Arthur, the leader of his side, 
would not speak, and no one of the others 
quite knew how to break the ice. 

But at length Duck, like a manful Irish- 
man, made the effort. The men’s union had 
hauled down its colors, and acknowledged 
itself wrong. If the men had been wrong, 
so had been the boys, and that sad truth must 

24 


370 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


be spoken. Duck gulped once, gulped twice, 
and then went across the road to the side 
of Arthur, who was walking along, looking 
straight ahead of him, yet longing for the 
reconciliation. 

Duck gulped for the third time, and then 
spoke. “ Say, Arthur,” he said, “ our union ’s 
busted up.” 

“ It is? ” asked Arthur, quickly, and turned 
on Duck that friendly eye which all the boys 
knew and liked so well. 

“ Yes,” answered Duck, taking more cour- 
age. “ We Ve thrown away our badges. 
And — and you don’t mind us walkin’ with 
you, do you?” 

“Mind? I’m glad!” cried Arthur, and 
then the hands met which never should have 
been separated. Immediately Curly skipped 
across the road to Lawrence’s side, and Hop 
to Biff’s. The smaller boys closed up, and 
surrounded the greater, and that happy babel 
of voices arose which their elders knew so 
well. 


The Biters Bit 


371 


Mr. Dodd looked back from among the 
group of silent, hurrying men. “ I ’m glad, 
Cudahy,” he said, to the man at his side, “ to 
hear our sons at it again.” 

Cudahy nodded. “ It ’s throubled me a lot, 
sir. But now everything will go right.” 

Nate led the party by the shortest cut to 
his place. The house was quiet, although 
some windows had been broken. Nate put 
in his head, called once the name of each boy, 
and told the others to go on up the hill, again 
putting himself at their head. “ Any damage 
done to the house? ” asked Mr. Dodd. 

“ Rummaged,” answered Nate, briefly. 
“I — there ’s smoke ! ” He pointed ahead. 

“ They are cooking,” said Mr. Dodd. 

“ More than cooking,” replied Nate. 
“That’s the sugar-house itself. Hurry!” 

And they hurried, only to find the smoking 
ruins of the house. There stood the old stone 
chimney, and there still were the brick fire- 
box and its iron skimming-pans, but they were 
in the midst of smouldering embers. 


372 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ Durn ’em!” said Nate. 

“ Never mind the house. Where have they 
gone? ” questioned Mr. Dodd, and Nate at 
once laid aside his own troubles. 

“ Here is the path,” he said, and showed it 
leading off into the bushes. They followed 
it a little way, until Nate declared that it had 
been trodden within an hour. Then they 
hastened along it, Nate in the lead. But 
after a few minutes he stepped aside into the 
bushes, and letting most of the others pass 
him, beckoned to Mr. Dodd, Waters, Cudahy, 
and Mr. Blair, to remain by his side. Arthur 
stopped also, and the rest of the boys checked 
their pursuit, to watch and listen. Nate turned 
back toward the sugar-house. 

“ Why is this? ” asked Mr. Dodd. 

“ Them two raskils went alone,” answered 
Nate. “ The path is muddy in places, and I saw 
their tracks. There were no boys’ feet, and the 
men were goin’ too fast to be carryin’ ’em.” 

“ Then what of the boys?” demanded Mr. 
Dodd. 


The Biters Bit 


373 


Nate, with closed lips, pointed toward the 
sugar-house, and the father’s face grew white. 

Soon they stood again at the ruins, and Mr. 
Dodd gazed among the little flames. Was it 
possible that there were the bones of his little 
lad, that some of his dearest hopes must lie 
there buried? Waters pressed close to his side, 
and with colorless lips tried to ask a question. 
But he could not speak, and Mr. Dodd could 
only press his hand. 

“ This way! ” called Nate, suddenly. 

They hastened to his side, and there, on the 
opposite side of the house, Nate showed a trail 
leading away in the bushes. “ May have been 
a dog, a cow, anything,” said Nate. “ But 
let ’s follow it up.” 

Through the thicket they followed it, 
through grass, to a pine grove. There it was 
lost, and Mr. Dodd looked helpless. But, 
“ Come with me,” said Nate, and led them. 
“ I guess where — ” He said no more, lead- 
ing the way with great strides. 

They came at last to the cave, which, with 


374 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


its cleft rock and giant pine, loomed suddenly 
amid the trees. No footprints showed on the 
pine needles, but Nate went straight to the 
entrance, and the others followed him silently. 
He stooped and called into the black hole. 

“ Are you in there? ” 

They listened. They heard a voice, — a thin, 
a tired, a pale voice, but it was courageous still. 
“ I would n’t come in if I were you, Rip,” it 
said. “ I told you I ’d use the knife.” 

“Pelly!” they shouted with happiness. 
“ Pelly! ” 

And from that place of refuge they drew 
the two boys. 

When, somewhat rested, having had food 
and water, the two boys were able to talk, 
they told the story by bits. The biscuits and 
the fire-box, Johnny Bragin’s coming, and 
Rip’s knife, Pelham’s cut wrists, and the fire, 
— it all came out slowly. 

“ But how did yez get out? ” asked Cudahy. 

“ It was Tim’s idea,” said Pelham. “ We ’d 
been in the fire-box once, you know. He said 


The Biters Bit 


37 5 


he thought we could get through it up the 
chimney. And it was an awful big opening, 
so we did, and slipped down on the other side 
of the house.” 

“Gad!” exclaimed Nate in the silence. 
“ I ’ve been meanin’ to modernize that fire- 
box; it’s eighty year old. If I’d put in a 
damper to save wood, Pelly, you could never 
have saved your life.” 

“ Let ’s get the boys home,” said Mr. Dodd. 
“ Go and get your buckboard, Nate. A dol- 
lar to the boy that brings the news to Mrs. 
Dodd.” 

Duck darted away, and no one tried to beat 
him, for of the village boys he was the fastest 
runner. The buckboard was brought, and Tim 
and Pelham, in state, were at last carefully 
brought down to the highroad. There, as they 
journeyed toward town, two vehicles overtook 
them. 

The first was a truck, drawn by eight 
horses, and carrying a vast piece of mechan- 
ism which at once excited the interest of the 


37G Pelham and His Friend Tim 


workmen. Mr. Dodd nodded at the driver as 
it passed, and Cudahy presently, after whis- 
pering with his mates, came and questioned 
his employer. 

“ Is that the water-wheel that works side- 
ways?” he asked. 

“ That is the turbine,” answered Mr. Dodd. 
“ If you are ready for work next Monday, 
your work will be ready for you.” 

“ Hivin be praised!” ejaculated Cudahy, 
piously, and there were many smiles among 
the workmen as they trudged onward. 

Next overtook them a farmer’s wagon, 
which rattled smartly up, the driver hallooing. 
“Why, it’s Bob!” said Mr. Dodd. 

“ Have you got them? ” asked Bob. 

“ We have. You missed it,” answered his 
father. 

From the tall wagon Bob beamed down. 
“ I ’m not so sure,” he said. 

“What!” roared Cudahy. “Did ye meet 
thim raskils? ” 

“ I did,” said Bob. 


The Biters Bit 


377 


“Did ye lay hand on thim? ” demanded 
Cudahy. 

“ I did,” answered Bob. 

“Where are they, then?” called twenty 
voices. 

“ Look in the wagon,” Bob said. 

A dozen mounted at once upon the wheels, 
the shafts, and even leaped upon the body of 
the wagon. There within lay two forms, tied 
neck and neck, heel and heel. Rip and Vol- 
ger glared out of changed features, but said 
nothing. 

“Black eyes!” cried Cudahy, with delight. 
“ Hi, how their faces is puffed up! Mr. Bob, 
who was with ye ? ” 

“ I was alone,” Bob said. 

“ Man, man, what did ye do to them? ” asked 
Cudahy. 

“ I laid hands on them,” answered Bob. 
No further description of the capture would 
he ever give, but any reference to it always 
seemed to start in him the happiest train of 
thought. 


378 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Then the procession went on, — a strange 
one, — until at length it reached the town, and 
with shouts and cheers of triumph called all 
inhabitants into the street. There was a wel- 
come to Pelham from his mother; and an- 
other, grim, yet very hearty, was extended to 
Rip and Volger by the constables. 

Since Tim was put upon the buckboard 
Waters had walked by his side, holding his 
hand, in deep and silent content. Now the 
constable approached Waters and laid a hand 
on his shoulder. 

“ You ’ve helped us well, Mr. Waters,” said 
the constable, “ and you ’re a man. But I ’ll 
have to ask you to come with me.” 

Waters stooped and kissed Tim, then looked 
at Mrs. Dodd. 

“ I ’ll take care of him! ” she cried. “ Be 
sure of that.” 

“ Thank ye, ma’am,” said Waters, humbly. 
He turned to the constable. “ I ’m ready,” 
he said. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


UNDERSTANDINGS 

F OR the rest of that day there was little 
more work done in the town except by 
Mr. Dodd. He had his turbine to at- 
tend to, messages to send, and letters to write. 
But after seeing that the mechanics were at 
work setting the turbine in place, and having 
done all else that he could, in much impatience 
he at last settled himself at his telephone desk, 
and called up by long distance the New York 
chief of police. There were delays, but at last 
he heard from the receiver a faint and distant 
voice. 

“ Is that the chief of police? ” asked Mr. 
Dodd. 

“ It is,” was the answer. 

“ I have been writing and telegraphing 
you,” said Mr. Dodd, “ about a man named 


380 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


Waterman, accused of murder in your city 
eleven years ago. Also about a man named 
Volger who is, I think, called Foxy Adams.” 

“ Now you ’re talking,” said the tiny voice. 
“ A nice tangle you ’ve given us to unravel.” 

“ I don’t hear you plainly,” said Mr. Dodd, 
puzzled. “ Why have n’t I heard from you 
before? ” 

“ The message went to the wrong office.” 

“ Well,” asked Mr. Dodd, “ are you going 
to send for Waterman? ” 

“ No.” 

“ No? ” cried Mr. Dodd. “ Don’t you want 
him? ” 

“ Don’t want him,” tinkled the thin voice. 
“ Turn him loose.” There followed what 
appeared to be an explanation, of which Mr. 
Dodd could catch nothing whatever. At 
length he gave it up. 

“But Volger?” he asked. “Adams, if 
that’s his name. Shall we hold him?” 

“ Hold him tight,” trickled the reply. 
“ We ’ll send the papers as soon as we can.” 


U nderstandings 


381 


“ And you don’t want Waterman? ” asked 
Mr. Dodd again. 

“ Don’t you understand? ” he heard faintly, 
but he was sure it came distinctly. “ Adams 
was the man Waterman killed.” 

“ What? ” cried Mr. Dodd. 

The answer was indistinct. 

“ Will you telegraph me that there is no 
charge against Waters?” he asked. Again 
he could not distinguish the reply. “ Speak 
plainer!” he directed. 

But the little singing in the wire had ceased. 
“ They ’ve cut me off,” he thought, and rang 
for central. “You’ve cut me off,” he 
complained. 

“ I ’m sorry, Mr. Dodd,” said the girl over 
the wire. “ It ’s on one of the cross-country 
lines. They ’re always working badly. I ’ll 
try again.” But after much effort she at last 
learned that the chief of police had left his 
office. His mind full of what he had heard, 
or what he thought he had heard, Mr. Dodd 
hurried to the jail. 


382 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


There he asked to see Waters, and was at 
once admitted to the office of the jail, where 
Waters was brought to him. “ This is very 
good of you, sir,” said the prisoner. 

“ Waters,” said Mr. Dodd, “ I have some 
information which I want you to help me 
piece out. I am going to ask you some ques- 
tions which you must answer to the best of 
your ability. — This accusation against you. 
Describe the man you acknowledge killing, and 
the struggle.” 

“ There was no struggle, sir,” said Waters. 
“The man was a newcomer at the mill; he 
had worked in our room but two days, and 
I ’d scarcely come face to face with him but 
once or twice. But one day, just after the 
noon hour, as we were going to our places, I 
heard him say all women were bad. I stopped 
short and said to him, 4 Any man that says that 
is bad himself.’ ” 

“Well?” asked Mr. Dodd, as Waters 
paused. 

“ He jumped at me,” said Waters, “ with 


U nder standings 


383 


a long hammer he had in his hand. I backed 
against a machine, sir, found I couldn’t get 
away, and as he aimed a blow at me which 
would have finished me, I snatched a tool from 
the machine bench and let him have it. He 
went down, sir, like an ox.” 

“ Tell me,” said Mr. Dodd, “ exactly where 
you struck him.” 

“ Just above the ear, sir,” answered Waters. 
“ It laid his cheek open down to the chin.” 

Mr. Dodd walked once up and down the 
room, then came and stood in front of 
Waters. “ Then,” he said, “ a blow like that 
would make a scar on a man’s forehead and 
chin, say from above the ear to the point of 
the jaw.” He passed his hand along his own 
face to show the line. 

Waters started as the idea came to him. 
“ Mr. Dodd, the man would have to recover 
to have a scar! ” 

“ Tell me,” said Mr. Dodd, “ what was the 
man’s name? ” 

“ Adams,” answered Waters. 


384 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


“ And was he bearded? ” 

“ He was, sir? ” 

Mr. Dodd paused. He was satisfied now that 
he had heard aright over the telephone, that 
Volger was the man Waters was supposed to 
have killed, and that Waters had not recog- 
nized him on account of their short acquaint- 
ance, the absence of beard, and the very scar 
which Waters himself had made. But he 
wished to be positive, and therefore called the 
jailer. “Will you bring Volger here? ” he 
asked. 

Volger was brought. He had been badly 
bruised by Bob, and in the woods his clothes 
had been torn; he looked shabby, tired, and 
in very bad repair. “ Volger,” said Mr. Dodd, 
“ you Ve had a hard time.” 

“ Yes, sir,” agreed the man, respectfully. 
He was not such as Rip, who, like a 
trapped wolf, was furious and sullen by 
terms. 

“ Volger,” said Mr. Dodd again, “ will you 
tell me where you first met Waters? ” 


U nder standings 


385 


“ Never before I came to your mill, sir,” 
answered Volger, quickly. 

“ Then how,” asked Mr. Dodd, “ did you 
know that his name was Waterman? ” 

“ Why — why — ,” stammered the man. 

Mr. Dodd looked at him with a smile. 
“You were not very foxy” he said, empha- 
sizing the word. 

Volger started and looked at Mr. Dodd in 
fear. At the same moment Waters leaped 
from his seat. “Foxy Adams!” he cried. 
“That was the name. — Are you the man?” 
he demanded, approaching Volger. 

“You may as well acknowledge it,” said 
Mr. Dodd. 

“ I am,” mumbled Volger. 

Waters clasped his hands together. “Thank 
God! ” he said, as now he learned that he had 
not killed. Mr. Dodd called the jailer and 
had Volger removed. 

“And — and I’m free to go, sir?” asked 
Waters. “ To go to Tim? ” 

“You can go as soon as I hear officially 

25 


386 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


from the New York chief of police,” said 
Mr. Dodd, “ and that won’t be long. You 
need n’t go back to your cell, at any rate. You 
are lucky, Waters. Only — if you had never 
started home that day! ” 

“Don’t speak of it, sir,” cried Waters. 
“ Eleven years I ’ve carried this secret with 
me. It ’s been a heavy burden.” 

Now the jailer entered again. “ Old 
McCook ’s outside, Mr. Dodd,” he said. “ He 
claims his son robbed him. Here,” and he 
showed Mr. Dodd a handkerchief full of 
money and odds and ends, “ here ’s what I 
took from the young fellow. Old McCook 
wants his things back without making a fuss, 
but how are we to know what is his? ” 

“ The jewelry surely is n’t Rip’s,” said Mr. 
Dodd. “ Here is a very fine old piece,” and 
he took from the handkerchief a brooch. 
“ This is — ” 

But Waters snatched it from him. “ That 
brooch!” cried the dyer. “That was my 
mother’s! How did it come here? I gave it 


U nder standings 


887 


to my wife.” He looked at it eagerly, as if 
trying to read its secret. 

“ If McCook owns it — ” began Mr. Dodd. 

“ McCook? ” cried Waters. — “ Excuse me, 
Mr. Dodd. I have n’t any manners. But will 
you call him in ? ” 

McCook was called in, and stood, glancing 
uneasily from Mr. Dodd to Waters. Mr. 
Dodd took the brooch. “Is this yours?” 
asked he. 

“ It is, sir,” replied McCook, eagerly, hold- 
ing out his hand. 

“ How did you get it? ” demanded Waters. 

“ It was my wife’s,” answered McCook. 

“ It was my wif e’s,” cried W aters. “ McCook, 
answer me this. Was the brooch the boy’s — 
Tim’s?” 

Into McCook’s face came his old look of 
spite. “ No,” he said. “ My wife bought it 
at a pawnshop.” 

“ Keep the brooch, keep it, Mr. Dodd,” 
begged Waters, with shaking hands. “ This 
must be looked into. Biddy may know.” 


388 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


They did not notice that McCook started. 
Biddy did know. But at that moment came 
into the room Pelham and Tim, through the 
open door. Tim went straight to Waters. 

“ What is it?” he asked, as Waters stood still, 
looking at him eagerly, but making no move to 
meet him. “ Why do you look at me so? ” 

“ Oh, my lad, my lad,” whispered Waters, 
drawing him close, “ I have such a new hope 
of thee! ” 

Pelham had marched up to his father. “ A 
telegram came for you,” he said, holding it 
out. “ I thought you might want it, and so 
I brought it. And Tim wanted to see Mr. 
Waters.” 

Mr. Dodd opened the telegram, read it to 
himself, and exclaimed. “What is it, sir?” 
asked Waters, quick to anticipate harm. 

Mr. Dodd looked at him, looked at him 
strangely. “ It ’s good news,” he said. “ Can 
you bear it, Waters?” 

Waters passed his arm around Tim. “ I 
can bear anything, sir,” he said. 


Understandings 389 

Mr. Dodd consulted the telegram. “It is 
from the chief of police,” he said. “ I asked 
him to telegraph, so that there should be no 
mistake, but he tells me what I had not sup- 
posed. It reads: £ No charge against Water- 
man. Hold Adams and will send papers and 
men for him. One mistake in your letter. 
Waterman’s son not dead. Adopted by 
woman named McCook!’” 

There was a long silence. Tim, his face 
pale, looked up at the man who held him. 
The boy said nothing, but his eyes asked the 
question. 

Suddenly Waters dropped to his knees, 
clasped the boy close, and hid his face upon 
his shoulder. “ My son! ” he cried brokenly. 

McCook slipped out. At a gesture from 
Mr. Dodd, the jailer tiptoed away. Then 
Mr. Dodd took Pelham by the arm. “ Come 
away,” he whispered; and going out, they 
closed the door behind them. 


390 Pelham and His Friend Tim 


A few more words and our story is finished. 
The strike was over, and the men went back 
to work. Volger was sent for from New 
York, and in due course went to prison. The 
union did not dissolve, but its next president 
was Waters, now called Waterman, a man 
held in much honor, not only by his employer, 
but also by his mates. 

As for Rip McCook, he served a term in 
the reformatory. And his father left the 
town, being most unpopular. Bridget, whose 
home was thus destroyed, promptly conveyed 
herself to a place where for the first time she 
was appreciated, and thereafter kept house for 
Waterman and his son Tim. 

The Dodd prosperity continued. Pelham, 
— but no one will expect a lad of his spirit 
not to get into more trouble, and it is impos- 
sible to dispose of his adventures here. 

And Tim? His misfortune was that he 
must go to school. He had tasted the de- 
lights of work, of a career which he knew 
himself able to fill. Waters knew it also, 


U nder standings 


391 


and Nate acknowledged it. “ He ’s got the 
sense ,” they agreed. But for all that he must 
go to school. “No son of mine,” said Waters, 
proud of the word, — “no son of mine shall 
remain a day laborer. The business is grow- 
ing here. Go to school. Go to the Institute 
of Technology. Then come back, and let me 
and Nate tell you all we know. You will be 
more than either of us then.” 

And Tim is doing what his father said. 


























♦ 















Books by Allen French 


THE STORY OF ROLF AND THE 
VIKING’S BOW 

Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50. 

A stirring tale, by the author of 
“ The Junior Cup,” presenting a vivid 
account of the old N orse life and of the 
people of Iceland. — Brooklyn Eagle. 

Boys will follow the fortunes of Rolf 
with ever-increasing attention, for his 
skill as a marksman, his intrepidity in 
scenes of peril and his noble character 
make him a very engaging hero. — 
Boston Beacon. 

The author of this artistic story of 
Iceland has caught the spirit of the 
times and men he depicts most hap- 
pily. — Outlook , New York. 


HEROES OF ICELAND 

Adapted from Dasent’s translation of “The Story of 
Burnt Njal,” the great Icelandic Saga, with a new 
Preface, Introduction, and Notes. Illustrated by 
E. W. D. Hamilton. 12mo. $1.50. 

I CELAND in the tenth century, the age of heroic deeds and 
of the Change of Faith, is the scene of this story — a story 
that is really a simplified version of the great saga first intro- 
duced to English-speaking people in the translation by Sir 
George Webbe Dasent. The old heathen life, the coming of 
Christianity, the mighty struggles of the heroes who thought 
it no shame to kill men but great shame to tell an untruth, — 
all this is vividly pictured as the saga sweeps on to its climax. 

THE REFORM OF SHAUN 

Illustrated by Philip R. Goodwin. 12mo. $1.00. 

T WO sympathetic and well-considered dog stories, “The 
Reform of Shaun ” and “ Mystic and his Master.” Both 
stories will appeal strongly to lovers of dogs. 



New Books for the Young 


THE BIRCH-TREE FAIRY BOOK. By Clifton 
Johnson. With numerous full-page pictures and 
smaller illustrations by Willard T. Bonte. 12mo 
Decorated cloth, $1.75. 

A W ORTH Y companion to the charming ‘ * Oak-Tree Fairy 
Book.” The stories have been carefully chosen and 
represent a wide variety from the simple folk tales to the 
fairy romances, including a number not commonly known or 
easily accessible. They have gained much and lost nothing 
in the retelling. Mr. Bonte has a remarkable faculty for 
illustrating fairy tales, and the pictures he made for the 
“ Oak-Tree Fairy Book ” received the highest praise. 

DONALD BARTON AND THE DOINGS OF THE 
AJAX CLUB. By Amos R. Wells, author of “The 
Caxton Club,” etc. Illustrated by Josephine Bruce. 
12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. 

A BOOK for boys filled with genuine, natural boy charac- 
ters and the things that boys like. “The Glen” is a 
picturesque spot near a country town, in which the boys be- 
longing to the “Ajax Club” have held their meetings. The 
“Ajax Club ” boys have many exciting adventures. 

PELHAM AND HIS FRIEND TIM. By Allen 
French, author of “The Junior Cup,” “The Story 
of Rolf and the Viking’s Bow,” etc. Illustrated. 
12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. 

A FIRST-RATE book for boys, with well-sustained in- 
terest and strongly drawn characters. The author 
centres his plot in a mill strike, which he has cleverly por- 
trayed and written of in a manner adapted to the under- 
standing of young people. Pelham and his friend have some 
really thrilling adventures. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers 
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


New Books for the Young 


READY THE RELIABLE. By Lily F. Wesselhoeft, 
author of “ Sparrow the Tramp/’ etc. Illustrated 
by Chase Emerson. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. 

A NOTHER delightful animal story by this favorite author, 
in which she attempts to show how adversity develops 
the energy and awakens the sense of responsibility in children, 
which traits would lie dormant or be misdirected in a life of 
luxury. The story will impress young readers with a sense 
of the distinct individuality of every animal. 

THE DEAR OLD HOME. By Sara Ellmaker 
Ambler. With 8 full-page illustrations. 12mo. Dec- 
orated cloth, $1.50. 

T HE scene of this original and entertaining story, which 
will delight both boys and girls, is laid in one of the 
Amish settlements of Pennsylvania. Serena and her brother 
Dick, city children, upon a long visit to their grandmother, 
became acquainted with Beppie and Pharaoh, two Pennsyl- 
vania Dutch children. The love-games, quiet adventures, 
and the boy sports which are described in the story will 
please and entertain children. 

OLD HOME DAY AT HAZELTOWN. By A. G. 
Plympton, author of “Dear Daughter Dorothy,” 
etc. Illustrated by Clara E. Atwood. 12mo. Dec- 
orated cloth, $1.50. 

M ISS PLYMPTON has made the Old Home Day sentiment 
the basis of a pretty story. The story is told in a 
straightforward manner and the interest never flags. Roxy 
and her grandmother are both natural characters. The feeling 
for family and one’s own town, and the sentiment of the song 
“ Home, Sweet Home ” are made a part of the story. Narra- 
tive and conversation are characterized by the same animation 
that one finds in the writer’s other popular books. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers 
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


New Books for the Young 


NANCY RUTLEDGE AND HER FRIENDS. By 
Katharine Pyle, author of “ The Christmas Angel/’ 
“As the Goose Flies/’ “In the Green Forest/’ etc. 
With 6 full-page illustrations by the author. 12mo. 
Decorated cloth, $1.25. 

A NEW story written and illustrated by this popular author 
will delight children of about eight years old. It is 
right in spirit, with natural children, and a wholesome atmos- 
phere. The different traits of Nancy, the little heroine of the 
story, become apparent as the chapters progress, and her 
especial friendship with a small neighbor is developed. 

IN EASTERN WONDERLANDS. By Charlotte 
Chaffee Gibson. Illustrated from photographs. 
12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. 

A BRIGHT story of a trip around the world, with the em- 
phasis on Japan, China, Ceylon, India, the Red Sea, 
and Egypt. It is thoroughly adapted to the comprehension 
of children and admirably suited for their entertainment and 
instruction. Its peculiar merit lies in the fact that it is a 
story of a real trip made by three real children. 

LONG AGO IN GREECE. A Book of Golden Hours 
with the Old Story Tellers. By Edmund J. Car- 
penter. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. 

A BOOK of classic fable and romance, from the ancient 
story tellers, retold for young people, giving in simpli- 
fied and shortened form Homer’s “Battle of the Frogs and 
Mice,” a stirring bit from the “ Birds ” of Aristophanes, the 
story of Phaethon and the runaway horses of Apollo, the 
wooing of Pelops, Atalanta’s Foot Race, the story of Hero 
and Leander, etc. The entire book will arouse a keener in- 
terest in the work of the classic poets, and will thoroughly 
entertain as well. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers 
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 



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